by Judith Bosire
Published on: Jun 30, 2005
Topic:
Type: Poetry

The suffocating smoke wakes me
I throw off my covers and open my eyes
Which sting terribly as I try to adjust to the dark room.
‘Daughter, grab a few clothes and run this way’.
A mother who knows no sleep calls out her child
She calls with a mother’s voice
Terrified yet calm
From a distance I can hear women wailing
And children weeping
They are calling out for help
That they know from deep within won’t come
Yet, they persist anyway.
Crawling through the twigs
I hear the cattle hooves thunder on the ground
The invaders have torn down my home
A place that I once knew and treasured.
The wails and shouts,
The crunching pieces of wood and banging metals
The greasy bodies and heat proclaim the magnitude of damage
I cringe at the memory of my brothers and father fighting back
Trying to safeguard our home
At the memory of the innocent women who may have been raped
Of the loved ones who lost their lives
Because of the diversity of nature
Because they are from a different ethnicity.
Why should I be a victim of ethnic clashes?
Or lose my treasured home and loved ones?
Where lays my identity and that of the whole humanity?
These questions run through my mind
As I await for the cock to crow
To usher the aftermath of yet another tribal clash
No amount of tears can account for the loss
And there will be no justice on level ground
I am just waiting for a strike back
The justice of wills.



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