a poem by Olomolehin John, Nigeria

Approaching 30 as a war victim
heading to a strange gateway ahead
Many of those childhood dreams
had been ground to fine powder
blown over the surviving adult dreams
germinating on hard soil

Time pounded me with experiences
and my pores opened up to acquire wisdom
I bled, I groaned,I roamed
scrambling amidst the drought of chances
to showcase the endowments within
yet it is always a carriage and miscarriage of hope

The prison is open now
I'm among the freed prisoners of war
I have found some precious stones in the sac
I picked in my stray for survival
Now, I'm heading to the city ahead
envisioning a fulfilled life.

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