my home morphs into a wraith, yet you tell me not to wail .
remember the dead wish the living could cry out the memories of them.
not like a ritual of forgetting or remembrance, the dead just deserve obeisance.
a snake sheds its skin—you call it passing time—tell me what other name
you have decided to give death.
a walk through the shadows–blending with the void?
when hoodlums hold a sickle to the life of a man and harvest its fruits. what do you call it?
in port harcourt, a senator’s aide was beaten into pulp. zamfara death & abduction is one of the eerie news the media glossed over.
bring in your list of femicide deaths and niger communities wailing into the chasm for aid while soldiers trade their camouflage for aprons.
you did not know that whoever receives a plate full of life will down a cup of death. no one will leave here alive.
do not call my name amidst aliens who wander terrains undiscovered by men. those who travel on the wings of an eagle & gallop on the hand of a residing watch.
men who got lost in tales we would never tell the world. eerie fanning the embers of confusion.
will you believe me when i say, a little brick could seal the gap?
throw the dart till it hits.
let no blood drizzle.
not even from the man who deserves death. let death pick as it wills.