a poem by Joseph Chukwudiegwu Osita, Nigeria

Our heart received the message
And tension well-positioned itself in the sky.
Heads sought refuge at army barracks;
A world of agony is about to loom

Who cursed that Friday noon?
When the serpent’s deceit erected citadel
Of hatred in peoples heart
The same blood in different capillaries
Rebelling against each other's idealism.
Who could whisper cross?
When star, hung on a sickled-moon dominate our face
And a thousand songs in Arabic slang marched nearer,
Muslims commandos camouflaged by white gowns;
Armed by guns, arrows and cutlasses.
Alas! the ceremony of blood-bath began
And cry of slaughtered Christian children
Opened the ceremony
And mass-grave gave them merits.

Like sickle upon harvest rice;
Flying cutlasses upon human heads.
Dwarf daggers visited intestines
Smoke-bleeding churches, weeping altars
And smiling blood-dripping heads of ecclesiastics
Danced conga in broad-daylight.
Battered bodies, burning houses and tattered businesses
Were all in attendance..
Demons of despair, agony and hunger
Later paid their tributes.
Prophets of economics later prophesied
That more worms will lick our bellies

Written in the effect of religious crises that took thousands of lives in northern Nigeria

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