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Chimezie Onuoha Jan 2019
We live in our own world
A world so small
But we still cry out
Though our voices may not be heard
We still cry out for peace

We, with our tender voices sing
We sing because we want peace
We long for peace
Without peace we are destroyed
Without peace our small world is destroyed

But we still cry out
Though our voices may not be recognized
If you listen to our song
You'll realize that in it
There's meaning and advice
Little our song may be
But enormous the message
Chimezie Onuoha Jan 2019
I tell them to leave me alone
Those wicked creatures
But they will not listen
They tell me my husband is dead
"Yes I know he is dead", I say
"Long dead and gone but I live and will not have weeds growing in my Lord's compound
Nor pigs licking from his pepper soup ***"
So they leave, offended by my words
For that is what I think

But I am wrong
They creep behind my house
And dig up my Lord's grave
Soon the villagers gather and make noise
They brand me a witch who will not let the dead rest
But I say, "I do not know what had happened! My enemies have done this!"

Still they heap ash on my head
While the other women shave my head
They pull out my ear and nose rings till alas they bleed at the spots

Then when they have left me haggard
And worse than his corpse
The vultures return
Those wicked creatures !
They have come to eat me
"But I am not dead!" I shout
"My Lord is gone yet I live
"Begone! " I shout "Begone! " I rave
Like a madwoman
Till those scavengers flee like shadows in the bright light

And as the day breaks and the sun shining on my face
I stand by the threshold
Strengthened by the rays of the sun
As a smile of hope lights up my heart
And the rays of truth raise my eyes to the massive green fields before me
I behold that which I've got in my hand
My sickle and basket.
Indeed there's much work to be done.

— The End —