by Judith Bosire | |
Published on: Jun 30, 2005 | |
Topic: | |
Type: Poetry | |
https://www.tigweb.org/express/panorama/article.html?ContentID=5814 | |
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. « return. |