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Tuesday 14 February 2017



By Paul Emerenini
For Family Writers

I have to question myself
I have to doubt my thought
Others answers worsened it
Yet my sorrow deepens.

It is unending night
My heart is too heavy
I try to pretend
Tears seems uncontrollable

Roll of tears become my
hands of clock
My injuries become more painful.
Salts been added to my wounds
I shouted on top of my voices
Yet no one seems to hear me.

All passed me by
The voice become dumb
The sight turned blind
The mighty become weak
Oh! Why my existence?

Oh wicked night
Why has your clock seize to tickle
When will you be over?
When will I see the rays of the sun?
When will the morning come?

Who am I?
What am I?
Where am I?

I got imprisoned in the east
I got rejection in the west
I got murdered in the north
I got subjugated in the south
The desert failed to habour me.

I see people of the east as human
I called the westerners neighbors
I considered northerners as friends
I embrace southerners as brothers
In return I got killed.

I was not killed and allowed to be buried
They killed me and those that will bury me
Animals that would have feed on me were not spared
The daylight turned dark.

Honourable burial one can receive
Is an abomination in the land
A burial that nature forbids
Dishonorable burial before the creator
That is the MASS grave burial.

Those alive are not allowed to talk
The more silence the more killings
Nowhere to assemble again
Movement restricted by all.

There is no more trading assembly
No more worship gatherings
No more student classes
No more pier group meetings
All because of Biafra identity.

Who has water flowing as a blood?
Whose life worth sacrificing?
Whose life is not precious?
What can be exchanged with a life?

I was created the same with others
I was made by the same creator
I never detected where to be created
But was created for a purpose
In the land of Biafra.

I have no power to question God
For creating me in a land of His choice
I can't deny my identity
For the fear of known/unknown sect.

Every living thing is proud of their identity
Every citizens is proud of their nation
Huasa and Yeruba are proud of their origin
Why can't I be proud of my Biafran identity?

The terrorists United Nations
The murderous European Union
The genocidest African Union
You shall find no peace.

I took an oath
Never to surrender
I shall fight on
Till the last man standing.


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