Donate Poetry

The cloud of death

In the early season of Jesus’ birth

In the earliest of peoples’ happiest set of the year

In the closure of yet another decade

The dark cloud of death moved

With a roar so devilish

From the West- with pretense- the disguise to disgust

 

The cloud of death knew no age, height or size

It saw neither beauty, ugliness nor weight

It had no eyes.

It was a cloud. A cloud of a broom. A broom to sweep all

 

The first months of a new decade exposed its venom

The venom that swallowed thousands a human being in the West

The pretense was out

I saw humans run. Run for safety.

I saw them run. Run away from each other

I saw countries close. Close doors on others

Society normalcy broke

I saw roads deserted. Work places closed.

I saw poverty and famine accompany the cloud of death

I saw a cry for and from Africa. A cry of the world.

Africa- a home so “pathetic”. Who would rescue Africa?

I saw fear- fear for Africa. Hospital less. Very backward

A childless parent. A parent who eats her own children

 

I saw deaths unequal. I saw Africa stand in the cloud

I saw fear rise and sink

I saw Africa stand

I saw tough suggestions for an undying home

I saw Africans tough to this

I saw Africa stand

 

Who stopped the cloud of death from scorching Africa?

Will he stop the corruption?

Will he chase dictatorship?

Will he heal the egocentricity?

Will he?

(28th April, 2020)