AP photo
By
Siraj A Sabuke
Somewhere
(For Amina Ali, the first among the abducted Chibok schoolgirls to return home)
Twigs of a dream
Shattered by the clawed
Hands of fate
Carved into a dross
Dangling in the bowels
Of technical slavery
Amidst the dark shades
Of scorpions ruled forest
A child is born
A girl is taken
A mother is rescued
A path is lit
Welcome home, Amina
Though not yet the Elysian
Field you craved
But your sorrow – full heart
Dripping fluids of anguish
And rivers of despair
Shall be burnt to ash
To be reincarnated in the Eden of bliss
Somewhere, some way
Girlhood is lost, yet, I
Welcome my sister
Welcome woman!
Welcome, to you, mother
Home welcomes you home
Our country is a whip of death
i saw a girl picking crumbs of burnt bread
on the broken belly of her raped homeland
reminiscing about the songs she learn at madrasa
before the coming of war which have become garment of grief
scissored & strayed into eerie ellipsis of sorrow
grandmother used to tell me how abominable it was
to die when the rain has come or during harvest
alas! she is not here to see our fading fate
here comes rain but our noses cannot tell petrichor
from incestuous & suffocating smell of blood
blood not of game during Christmas or Eid festival
but blood of boys & girls hoping to see home after school
blood of women & men seeking survival at marketplace
of lads & lasses lost in realms of romance…
blood-red colour has dirtied the once live-green flag of our country
to us, our country is a whip of death
held against us by our omniplunderous gods
if not, why the incessant killings of southern Kaduna
why the senseless mayhem by men of Ile-ife
why the blood thirsty militancy of Niger-Delta
which of the impotent gods drank the blood of Shiites in Zaria
which of the gods are making us sheepish sacrifices
in Borno, we have forgotten the road to the cemetery
for our dead are dungs thrown to rot in mass graves
we have become singers of sour songs riddled with repetitions
repetitions of guns. bombs. bullets. blood. death. widows. orphans…
we have forgotten the holy songs of peace we learn at madrasa
Siraj A Sabuke
Siraj A Sabuke lives in NEW BUSSA, Nigeria, Joint winner of WRR GREEN AUTHOR PRIZE 2016. Co-author of RAINBOWS & FIREFLIES (WRR, POETRY 2016). He studies English Language at Usmanu Danfodiyo University, Sokoto. He has a great passion for writing. He writes SUFI poems. He is influenced by many writers, most especially, Laura M Kaminski who nurses his art of writing. Sabuke sees writing as a life that must be lived.