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Voices Of The Silence III
I sing of days lost
in the memory of a defeated people
I sing of hearts lost
in flesh pampered by day
by the witch that sucked its blood
in the midnight
I sing of a totem lost
in hearts subdued by the victor's cannon-laughter
in that sudden relief
the quick relapse into that complacency
that fanned the brushfires
of yesterharmattan
I sing not of love
but of hate the war fostered
the love that hatched the shells
that killed the chickens in the roost
the love that pounded death to feed
starving babies in midnight mortars
that crushed mothers and fathers
the seeds of generations
mashed raw with sand
to build their sovereignties
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