Weeping as a Mutilation of Fear

Today, every face in my community bears tears like a mutilation

All ears of our land are worn out by the

acerbic headlines whistling out from our radio.

Outside, the whole land is becoming a sea of corpse

In here, fear has a large apartment in our bodies than blood.

In this home we cannot home

For we are preys chased by wild raiders

Yesterday, the raiders strike in at midday,

and left with my father’s blood on their knife.

Yesterday, a holocaust ate up my uncles barn of grains and hays

and at the time the day became grey,

another mutilation of fear and tears outshone from our faces.

Nags of gunshots are chirps of birds,

A tragic song we perceive on steady basis.

Perhaps my father’s God said that the day

violence chews the serenity of our land,

we should know we are approaching the butt of life

and so we pray this day not for the end of violence,

but for the kickstart of apocalypse.