When Nursing Wound Becomes Painful

When you get to Africa, Tell Chimamanda Adichie That I once saw Kainene Among the Animals in the forest of Abba Roaming senselessly with the howling Wind. Home skipped her in a bright flash lighted plain, The clattering and clanging of her white teeth Against her womanhood had made her go insane; Insane of those bodies spread in the bleeding sand Of the clamouring Biafra. Burdens in her mind about her brethrens has made Night out of her day and she roamed about helplessly, breathless, unkempt and feeble; she look. The forest cleared, her emotions filled with a pack of parrotted thoughts. I tried to hold her as a sister in the name of blood But failed. The loosed hair blown of her eyes shutting it heavily with a bang. From the blue heaven of a lady I used to know, Now she had turned to a clouded dark princess. Together with a cry that deafens, We could bring our past to the present, The denial of our hands to work out progress As the minors in our own land can be restored. Tell Chimamanda that Kainene still in search to retrace her origin. They could kill us in millions, They could gather us like firewood and kill, We still remain who we are in this part of the world Where nature had made for us as paradise on earth. Kainene, come back to motherland! Men are now in town to fight what is left of us; freedom to be who we are in the land they abused. Where on earth is our rights? Where on earth do we belong to? We shall all ask ourselves some day When the nursing wound of our past becomes more Painful to bear in heart. (C) John Chizoba Vincent All Right Reserved 2016