POETRY

 PEACE

Puppeteers calmly manipulate strings from rooftops 
Cajoling their stooges into orchestrated macabre dances 
To entertain us with the sight
Of decapitated bodies in the North

In this cacophonous theatre of death
Where brothers take up arms against defenceless brothers
 Hacking them down like logs in the forest.

Jaw-dropping clandestine commando operations 
Leave in their wake the wanton destruction of life 
In the desolate villages of the middle belt
Torn asunder by once-docile cattlemen 
Mutated to machine-gun totting merceneries 
Sacking whole settlements and fertilising farmlands 
With the blood of farmers

Where peace in vain is sought
What unity is there in death?
The old sun watches as endless rivers of blood
Oiled by a pervading dearth of love
Flow into the crevices of our national wall
Soaking the very fabric of our nationhood.
There are no wise men in this fool's paradise.