a poem of lament

related deaths

We died because we wore caftans
And faced east to pray

We died because we spoke a tongue
That differed from theirs who held the guns

We died because we didn't have
The bribe to give the faulty rifle
At the police post

we died in a flow of red because
our parents refused that in us
they should be born again

And I
I hear of these related deaths
And I cradle my violin and weep bitter tears
For I am the we
And We used to be human together
Not long ago

Poetry by richard ugbede ali
Read 825 times
Written on 2006-10-30 at 10:06

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Well written

Emeka Chike Nwogu
If I have a choice, I will runaway and reappear as a saint whose blood will be bitter in the mouth of death. Nice and mournful. Welcome to the Bay!


This is bitter. I can feel you. The same old tales of Africa as a continent. Write on my brother, one day we shall be free from the hands the Parasites!