Cold Fire

Yesterday, everyone that hates us was tried and convicted
For stealing and looting
For the bombs that dropped on Baga
and the girls of Chibok
Today the sun will rise upon the graves of those who rest
Upon the hearts of those who endlessly hope

My name is Fatima and I live in a town
where peace is in prison and sanity is mad
There was a time when I was happy
When children were just children
and peace was free
Until they came with fire and fear the size of our town
I survived, you might say
But what is life when hope barely lives

Let us start a cold fire
A bloodless revolution
We have suffered far too long
In silence,
Voiceless

(c) Olamide Oti

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NI BAGA (I Am Baga) — A Poem

image

I am not alone, I know: never alone
The corpses littered herein are my own
They keep me company while asleep peacefully
Today, their struggles have ended finally
Ye children left standing, come around!
I will tell all of ye a tale as familiar as sound:
The day upon which sorrow lost its bitterness
And the cries only became shouts of gladness

Rejoice! Son of this desolate city — the heir
For thine walls of ruins become monuments of despair
The rubble will be fed upon by good grief
Because your joy has been snatched away by the thief
The sun shall spare thee not, all day long
The night’s cold winds will comfort thee with song
At the very brink of thy uncertain nurture
Thou hast become one and soul with nature

Ye shall not see me shed another tear
For I spoke the truth that all men may hear
And though it has brought about my humiliation
It will one day bring me salvation
Ye shall not see me breathe in tepidity
All fear of death, I see as stupidity
Stand, my children, for ye can fall no more
Valiant in truth and service like never before.

© Luke Ogar

Luke Ogar also blogs at https://nerdsandnovices.wordpress.com

Luke O. Ogar

For Baga

The world watches
The harmattan winds brought a new hardness to their cold hearts
Our children are slain in broad daylight
Fathers shot as they shield their children from the messengers of death.
Mothers burnt alive saying their last prayers
Destinies that will never be fufilled
In a country where lives are squandered
Where politics is more important than humanity
The world watches
Waiting for the message of hope from the lips of our leaders
A message of comfort
But instead we get pictures
Pictures tell a thousand words
Telling us they we are just pawns
In the grand scheme of things
It doesn’t matter whether we die or not
We are dispensable, disposable and worthless.
I’m not sad. I’m angry
The world watches, unabashed.
(c) Omolara Kolawole, 2014

Welcome to Baga

Welcome to Baga
where nightmares live
and dreams go to die
I had heard the men talk in low tones about what they did to Chibok
and how the nation stood still for a day and moved on

Mama never thought they would come
we have soldiers here, she would brag
oh but you see, they did
last night while men slept, they crept in on us 
plundered our lands and set our homes on fire

It burned so beautifully that it reminded me of the fireworks last Christmas 
mama and papa were taken away in that van
perhaps they will be back tomorrow 

my shoes were left behind
the ones mama bought me for school
but my life is worth more
and so I ran through the forest until I came to a temporary place of solace
where a million other children dwelt

Every night since Baga
I wake up with screams that drown out the screams of the other tortured souls
perhaps, our brothers in the south would help us
or today, the world will end
and I will finally rest where peace lives

(c) Olamide Oti

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