DON’T CALL ME SISTER…UNLESS YOU MEAN IT!

I have news oh sister of mine,

Quite terrible news I’m afraid.

There is war in the streets my friend,

You must within safe walls remain.

War in the streets…you say!

Oh who could the offenders be, pray?

Only yesterday we lived as one,

We bought, we sold but never fought!

I know not those who brandish swords,

Neither care I for their wicked curse.

Why, who…I cannot now devise,

Surely survival sister, friend is more wise.

                                

I have news oh sister of mine,

I am afraid it is worse this time…

Your business is burnt down completely,

Your crime your religion, apparently.

Burnt down completely…oh no!

My goodness, I just took a loan!

Why do I suffer for the way that I worship,

At the hands of those I offered but friendship?

Reserve your questions for a day of calm,

Only dear sister, remain not in Pan-yam.

The gain in this killing is nothing but pain,

But your life and good health, protect with all stealth.

                            …

I have news oh sister of mine,

It breaks my heart to share this kind.

Your innocent son was taken from school,

He lies still in the street, his blood is a pool.

My son, my son…my innocent son!

Too young to have knowledge of what brought this on.

What is this crusade which preys on the guiltless?

Why has this evil descended, oh God who shall address !

Your anger your sorrow overwhelms me with grief,

Oh my dear sister, your hurt makes me weep.

Lies and deception, pride and corruption

Shall come judgment here or hereafter, even future laughter.

                                 …

I have news oh sister of mine,

I am afraid I may not be in time.

The killers advance into your street,

Run, run…flee from your keep.

They come, they come…surely they come!

Must I die in senseless slaughter, treated as a worm,

My son…do I flee this home where only last night you slept?

Whisper direction to your mother you have weeping left !

To where do you run oh sister…thou fool!

I have led them to you, right without fail.

Foolish friend, it is your hour of pain,

No more tolerance I…now face your doom!

                                     The end

 

            Written after the November 2008 violence in Jos city, Nigeria

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. deliverancelounge
    Dec 29, 2011 @ 14:07:42

    Every one who has experienced firsthand, been affected or suffered indirectly from the outbreak of community violence will identify with these musings and honest poetry…feel free to write in your experiences and by so doing find healing for your wounded spirit.

    Reply

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