BIAFRA: SACRIFICE
By Orji Ezinne
For Family Writers Press
Each dispersed at distinct directions without hope and aspiration
No food neither were there rooms for shelter. Cold became their warmth
Malnutrition became their health
Dirge became their solace
Their stomachs, protruding
Like that of pregnant women
with emaciated skin, with tiny heads, looking haggard and pitiful
What was their crime?
Mothers weep for their children!
Children weep for their mothers!
Fathers weep for their wives and children
They refused to be consoled
What was their crime?
Each corner lay millions of dead souls on the streets called FREEDOM
With no befitting burial
or a fine linen to cover their corpses
What was their crime?
A day wouldn't pass
without stories of death
within and outside
the street called FREEDOM!
What was their crime
The whole media turned blind eyes to their plights
BBC was quick to accuse us of being the architect of our own ruines
The propaganda still lingers
What was their crime?
What are we to do?
How do we tell the world about the plights of the Indigenous People Of Biafra? Light up your candles let us mourn
They fought gallantly!
Without fear or favour
Without shame or regret
Without shield or amour
Without food or water
Without clothing or shelter
Is there a sacrifice greater than this?
Isn't it priceless?
Worth respecting and deserve much veneration?
What shall we give in honour of this lofty SACRIFICE?
We shall sit at home come 30th May, 2018 to mourn these great men and women who gave up their own Lives for us to live!
By Orji Ezinne
For Family Writers Press
Each dispersed at distinct directions without hope and aspiration
No food neither were there rooms for shelter. Cold became their warmthMalnutrition became their health
Dirge became their solace
Their stomachs, protruding
Like that of pregnant women
with emaciated skin, with tiny heads, looking haggard and pitiful
What was their crime?
Mothers weep for their children!
Children weep for their mothers!
Fathers weep for their wives and children
They refused to be consoled
What was their crime?
Each corner lay millions of dead souls on the streets called FREEDOM
With no befitting burial
or a fine linen to cover their corpses
What was their crime?
A day wouldn't pass
without stories of death
within and outside
the street called FREEDOM!
What was their crime
The whole media turned blind eyes to their plights
BBC was quick to accuse us of being the architect of our own ruines
The propaganda still lingers
What was their crime?
What are we to do?
How do we tell the world about the plights of the Indigenous People Of Biafra? Light up your candles let us mourn
They fought gallantly!
Without fear or favour
Without shame or regret
Without shield or amour
Without food or water
Without clothing or shelter
Is there a sacrifice greater than this?
Isn't it priceless?
Worth respecting and deserve much veneration?
What shall we give in honour of this lofty SACRIFICE?
We shall sit at home come 30th May, 2018 to mourn these great men and women who gave up their own Lives for us to live!
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