Was it not yesterday that they struck
And got our corpses loaded in their truck
Dragged our lifeless bodies along valleys
And poured our wasted souls into gullies,
See them, parade in victory.
After the war, they never ceased
Rather they seized every opportunity to kill
Hear them till graves and shallow tombs
Annihilation, marginalization, extermination.
Soldiers, aids, uniforms in concord
A discourse and concourse
Envoy, convoy and voyage
Blood, flooding the carnage.
After the war, they held on
Horrors in pieces and bits
Terrors on nieces and kits
Watch, listen, hear them rage louder!
We rise, yes we do, the muse
For the rising sun only sets with nature
Rains, clouds, nights and days
Dews, mist, moist, fog, they all gear.
Blood rise in wells
As they ring like bells
Calling forth for peace
Singing songs of love
Writing books of unity
Saying words of progress
Gathering dust of justice
Yet after the war, the pogroms return.
Genocides, homicides, afflictions
Hate, hate upon hate
War, war after war
Call a dog a bad name
And have it publicly beheaded for festival.
In memory of those killed during the Biafran war
©® Ngozi Olivia Osuoha, Nigeria
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