By Ezekiel Fajenyo
There is testimony of peace
in the idiom of booming bombs
across throats supplicating to Jehovah.
There is quiet evidence of peace
in loud creeks of fireball in hungry regions;
ravenous wolves have priests as intercessors when deaf dialogue of the dead
spreads it’s wings across the sky.
How also do I define growth
when survivors carry bandaged arms to beg for arms?
How else do I protect innocence
when traps escape elephants’ hatred
on ourfathers’ farms?
I speak of light,you speak of darkness
where monuments are dark skeletons of the wasted,
where innocence is devoured by raging
canines of dragons.
