From a government college of science and squalor.
Hasty departure on narrow paths. Under frail foliage and angry sun.
Sweaty pants, burning stomachs,
Noses to fidgeting nozzles,
Lost looks and thoughts.
Beds of twigs and ants.
Long cold nights, Filled with terror of ghostly shrieks.
Kagara, county of the homeland of gap-toothed and white bearded generals, veterans of war. Now neighbours to the lair of jackals and foxes.
Gone, nostalgia of the innocent and incense of laughter.
Gone, the mist of boys will be boys.
For a while, pantings of frightened children in the warehouse of distress. Worth more in captivity than in freedom.
In the whirlwind, demands of ransom
From benighted parents.
In heaven, there is a ransom that is free and it’s days are here.
Who else will wear the ankara of Kagara as everything goes awry
In the arid land that rains blood.
@Philemon Doro Adjekuko