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GENOCIDE: A NECESSARY EVIL

When the East caught fire
Deafened by the noise of their own sun
They said healing was natural
Because Ojukwu was their son
Bitter leaves spread over Umuahia
In numbers that could set the world ablaze

If you found love in Kano
It must have fallen from a bird that lost home
Kano was a city of differences
And tribal similarities
That was where a friend died
Chest blown up, smelled of virgin blood

Freedom was the moan of a girl
Who hid the sun between her legs
She would burn
But farewells beckoned to her storm
Eastern Nigeria was buried in warm skin-
a corpse whose feet still walks today

Every bitter song has a note of joy-
a beauty that once belonged to the Israelites
A hope that the land where dryness had dissolved
Would soon wear the wet shades of light
There is half of every dawn in the moon
A proof that white skies rise from dusty roofs

History is a boy with three balls
“The rise, fall, and rise of Biafra”

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