SALVATION IN THE EYES OF THE SUN

Somewhere, a boy is digging a tomb of
memory and ends up having his head
hung between this poem. I don't want to
start this poem with memories, with lines
that bring me more closer to extinction. 

So when about to sleep, I'll close the
windows to not have a taste of the airs
that scents more like my brother, still, they
sneaked in and romance me with their

roughened edges. I dreamt of salvation
in the eyes of the sun, the sun came &
pour me her rays; they doesn't taste 
like scented flowers, like vine ripe mangoes.

I ran to the moon, the moon placed in my
palms, darkened images. I don't know know
where else to search for light, I returned to 
this poem; I saw the dreams of my sister

withered in a flower betwixt the lines. I saw
with my korokoro eyes the nakedness of
her dreams choking my breath. Tell me
how more to starts a day than to wake up

in the garden of lilies, everything here 
pop me up to an emissary of tears.
I mean to say, here; I am a portrait of
a boy hung on the walls of fate

THRENODY

To the souls the ground swallowed
To the dreams that got ruptured
To the  faces been robbed of smiles
To — afternoons of collapsed skeletons

To the moments that ticks in the chest
To the days lived in fear—  yesterdays of wailings
To the  fruits that got plucked off unripened
To every kin yanked and slewed at Burma

To the dirges— The threnodies
To the victims of faulty policies— 
To the Yobe, the Zamfara— where my brothers and sisters await their death.

To the everyday mourning news of the television
To the widowed, the orphaned 
To every blood shed— broken promises
To the days, where the goats no longer feed on greens

To every agony
To every pain
To every story that falls blood
To every dreams shattered

I say, let's put our heads and brains together
In spite of our homes been war-torned 
Let's keep our hope alive— fate like a citadel
And our bright steps will once again spring love