A Tale Of Terror

As I walked down the street
I saw a girl whose hand was butchered
Sitting in shadow of her mother, whose head was chopped off
Her eyes rolled down to my feet
I could still hear the cries of her unborn babies
Hmm! It was a dreadful sight as I speak

What about the widow I saw
Struck with a dagger in her heart, by a hooded figure
Her daughter hiding behind a tree
Was weeping her mother's untimely death
Her cries could touch the soul of a dead body in a faraway grave
As I passed by, tears dripped down my cheeks
Hmm! It was a dreadful sight as I speak

What about the man I saw, who was dragged by a rope hooked to his nostril, into a room
Minutes later
Bullets sprayed in and out of the windowless rooms like fireworks
Blood formed into a pool within the skeletal room
Hmm! It was a dreadful sight as I speak

What about the killings that strike, and go on and on
As sorrow threatened to blacken the brightness of the moon
As crime tends to threaten us
So ends the tale of terror
But reality continues its story

by Ama Alma Okigbo

Other poems of OKIGBO (13)

Comments (16)

daring her to say what he sees
so much of questions and yearning to know the answers of the heart... so beautiful. Love your poem.
I relate to this. I have someone in mind who, understandably from past hurts, is guarded with me though I myself have been transparent with her, given her no reason to be. So I wait. -GK
Swift things! ! Thanks for sharing.
Face unto face, then, say, Eyes mine own meeting, // And heart, body, soul everything is mine on own meeting between two poles of us to be merged right now!
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