War is what happens
When peace is stretched
To its elastic limit.

Allow me to weep
For our sons and daughters,
'cos tomorrow, one of us
with unharvested bullets
in the folds of a wrinkling face
Will tell them with quivering lips:

A is for Agatu, the color of confusion
In the eyes of a lad whose father's lifeless
Body is a pillow of worms.

B is for Benue, the cloud where the rainbow
of grief hangs with bright hues

C is for Chibok, the sound death makes
When he advances towards his prey

D is for Dapchi, the same cracking voice of Leah's mother in the temple last Sunday,
Only that this time, Eli does not think
She is drunk!

E is for Edumoga, a place where peace is
Slashed to make silage for cows.

We'll hear the voice of school children
Pick every letter we dipped in blood
Before their birth in a history class
Until they arrive at Zed:

Z is for Zamfara, a proverb to grease the
Path which our remorse will travel
When we see that the fire we refused
to put out on a neighbour's farm
Has burnt our own barns!

by Ogwiji Ehi-kowochio.
More at: www.eboquills.tk