A Chibok Dream
In Chibok once, I met a maid, three hundred was her name.
Brim-filled with hope and not afraid, her life like sheets was plain.
She had a mother and a dad, her siblings were her joys.
For these her love was not a fad, there might have been a boy.
She told me how (tone innocent), she’d want to change the world.
She was so sure and on it bent that life was all she’d want.
I saw a country in her dreams, a state not like today.
They falsely pledged to never bring. She swore our renegade.
And as I versed kibaki, light, I happened on a mom.
She whispered soft with great delight, “I bore a treasure chest”.
I wondered how a chest could bring out of a woman’s womb,
Until she chose to un-riddle by patting her child’s head.
She spoke! “My daughter is my life”, and wrapped her with herself.
A child’s mother so satisfied with no more than one birth.
“I did not seek your oil crude; I did not want your gems,
I had no cause to nurse a feud, I had my little girl”.
The wildest smile I’d ever seen that tore a father’s face.
I’d thought he was smiling at me. Rear me she was, a pace.
He sped past me to unburden the clay-pot on her head.
He wiped the drops that kept rolling down her face with his shirt.
If fulfillment had a grimace, it won’t be happier.
Unfettered elation; the plague. A dad; the carrier.
In Chibok now I miss a maid, three hundred’s still her name.
Her life’s a sheet that plain remains, her bed’s forever made.
Three hundred futures are missing and we don’t recognize,
We’ve lost great heroes untimely, compatriots, O arise.
I happened on that mom again, I happened on her fright.
Delight replaced with apex pain, with not a ray of light.
She has all causes to be brute, she’s lost her little girl,
A mother is insatiable, a mother hasn’t slept.
Copyright © Dominic Amezimi | Year Posted 2016