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DEAR THEIA

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DEAR THEIA
I still hear your words in my head
My memory recalls your lessons, vivid.
“Take the mat to the neem shade, and spread it to it’s last stretch”
This was your prophesies when you are ready to spew tales.
You had an unfamiliar name, that
even when a bird whispers it, everyone hears it!
“Maybe that is why she loves to lecture”
Thought passers-by when they sighted the broad neem tree,
at the middle of the desert compound, with four huts built around and the beautiful circular congregation sitted before you.
Though you were only fifteen,
but you had thrones and big caps sitting along with little souls listening.
Those eager faces, anticipating to hear
Tales that still befall the present times;

Your voice is a soothing, sober bass
She bends her head in despair and says
Listen, I said listen
The sounds are not far
The screams are very near
Tomorrow maybe ours
For we have ran countless times
Chased into the wild
And, yet we retrace our steps, back to our roots
The same soil that bred our forefathers
We ran back to our shattered huts that were misplaced like our hopes
We have been butchered, served to feed the vultures
But you see time heals, we always believed
But also time kills, and we are all Broken
The lucky ones get cracked
We wish we could patch ourselves and have beautiful scars
Few are lucky to escape the pain of the survival
But, it’s more burden to us than a blessing
We wish we had spare parts to fix the broken tears we shed;
When we remember many are now dust,
We now have shady memories of them
We don’t force ourselves to remember anymore
The reality remembers on our behalf
We have bathed with the blood of our descents
Drank it down to our throat
Many have been taken captive
Children now mimic adult life
Men, ripped off their pride
Women, walk around with sagging breasts
Maidens, traded for flesh business to satisfy hungry beasts
How tragic our lives have become?
We are people of thesame
Sand cannot be crushed, but heat can only change its form
The peace we are running to is now in tide
No wonder humans are scared of vampires
We live to see them crawl,
with broad armour of smiles full of bullets
Seeking human blood at night as their appetizers,
and spilled flesh to the soil as dessert
What an appetite!

Everyone is free, she continues
But freedom is a kind prison
Check your time, it’s free yourself o’clock
For we are free but imprisoned in our thoughts
When will it be our turn to vanish in cruelty?
We are forced to live shackled
Eating scrums to survive and,
now we sing to help us forget
Our voices, a sorrowful beautiful dulcet ,well aligned
Little did she know our fate will befall us at nightfall
We heard them
BOKO HARAM
We are on the menu today
And we stood to fight with our guts as our weapons
We were sent to our peace with bullets and grenades
THEIA is missing,
leaving us with no preacher, seer nor soother
We heard by dawn, you have started another journey,
You were one of the shackles who was not prepared to sleep away without defending her own
You paid with courage and respect
History will tell of the fearless warrior who fought with no sword nor armour
The liberator of souls
Who was found, lying at the corner with a slit-throat
Yours regrettably
Anonymous
Adieu dear THEIA.

(Silver Sebastine)

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