Poetry

IT BEGINS By James Ochayi

Written by Editor

I hear voices
Echo in fear
I see faces of little children
Full of tears

Our street is empty
With no single care

In the wings of mountains
Dungeons and hills
Our blood drain from our heart

Our past full of terror
Present,
Future uncertain
Hymn, sad

Our homes on fire
Our peace and joy stollen by the
Monsters

See innocent souls
Crying out for vengeance
The land owners becoming strangers
Violence and wounds growing old in the heart of teenagers

I see many widows, widowers,
And orphans being fed through the window
A special names is tagged them, IDPs
Internally displaced persons

Life in YODABO
Has become a sea of pain
Every home clearly is agony painted
I see lost children, sisters, brothers and
Parents

Homes and treasures
Converted to ashes

I see blood flow down in every street
Like water down the street
I see bodies lifeless, lay on the ground
This reminds me of the movie
Hotel Rwanda and Some Time in April

Our value, ethics and noms are swallowed
Our culture, tradition and heritage
Is lost

Our atire, drama and lifestyle
Is gone
Our music, dances and craft
Are no more
Our foods, lands and properties
Destroyed

No value and respect for humanity
No discipline, no humility
No legacy left in the city

Oh sweet Yobe, Adamawa and Bornu
Plateau, Kaduna, Taraba and Agatu
Obi, Okene and Odi
Where are you?
Home of peace
Centre of learning
Treasure base if the nation
Home of peace and tourism
Food basket of the nation
Home of solid mineral and natural resources
Giant of Africa we called her
Where ate you

Where are those days
Of joy, peace and hope
Those days of celebration
Laughter and trust
Those days of oneness
Togetherness, kindness and love
Equity, fairness and justice

Where are those days
When everything is for everyone
Every child is for every parent
Those days of free and fair elections
Those days of no EFCC , no NAFDAC
No CPC because we are law abiding citizens

Where are those days
Of praying for one another
Eating together and being our brother’s keeper

Where are those days
Of dining and winning in merriment
Those days when my neighbor looks after my children
As I go in search for my daily bread

Where are those days of making feast
Those days of unity
Holding hands walking together side by side
Without sentiment

Where are those days of
No boko-haram , No insurgency
No herdsmen killing, No terrorism
No corruption fighting, No tribalism
Na kidnapping, No vandalism
No economic meltdown, No religious differences
No child molestation, no hatred, no ethnicity
No discrimination, No political crisis
No …………division among indigenes

The innocent souls ask
They cry and continue to scream
“Justice, peace and mercy in our lands
Let it begin to be”

About the author

Editor

Bada Yusuf Amoo is the publisher of thespeakingheart.com. He started the website in 2015, he has published both his works and other budding writers and poets on the website. He is a public commentators and his articles are on different websites.

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