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Friday, 17 November 2017

"MY HEART BLEEDS" - A Poem

"MY HEART BLEEDS" - A Poem

Written by: Orji Ezinne
For Family Writers Press.

My heart bleeds!
A land flowing with milk and honey has lost its flavour!
Her beauty turns ugly, like that of a vulture!
Her glory crumbled, like  babel of old
Oh! My heart weeps for her ruins!
The great citadel,
Who are the masterminds?
Are they merchants? Or  colonist?

Our young wenches, fated to be Queens
are subjected to subservient duties, our betrothed virgins forcefully taken into marriages!
The pride of our beautiful damsels, fated for Prince and Kings, are taken  away,
depositing in them, with varieties of ailments, by uncircumcised fellows with no hope and aspirations.

In slavery, we were sold!
With no clothes on our bodies!
Our young wenches, fated to be Queens are subjected to subservient duties.

Our able bodied men, fated for greatness are bound in distinct prisons, of the expired entity called Nigeria
undergoing unspeakable ill-treatment that will lead to their executions.
 Torture has become their delight, with cloudy hope and future
!

My hallowed head
Have been fashioned into a discomfort!
A discomfort in agony!
A seat for my reminisce
!
A seat for my pains and anguish

It still rings a bell,
yes!
A resounding one, with elongated echo
!
Nkpor! , Igweocha! , Asaba!, Aba! , Ebonyi! ... Men, women and children were slaughtered.
The land that once flowed with milk and honey is now flowing with water and blood of her children!
Why should I also Forget1967-1970, massacre. They swept off our feet with blockade!
Feeding the world powers with lies
!
Say:
"they are the architect of their plight"

The slaughter still lingers!
It extends to AFARA IBEKU, where the Biafran leader dwells!
Yes!
They desecrated the kingdom,
made it desolate!
Not minding his Prince ship position,
Who are the masterminds? No one but the expired entity.
They sent our able bodied men, women and children, to the great beyond!
My eyes are heavy!
My tears have flowed, up to the Euphrates!
Psalms have become my regalia!
my body has emaciated, my beauty, faded away, my skin has wrinkled! my bones fragile, with weaken teeth left with nothing to chew!
Oh ABIAMA!  when shall we sing your song?
Song of triumph!
Song of BIAFRA!
Is it now?
Or when eternity calls?

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