My contribution to the following image prompt.
Life sucks and then the Ogbunigwe galaxy claims you. I’d been waiting for its counterpart – Death. It was scared of me. I’d claimed my space twice. It let the others in. It took the strong, it left the defenceless. Its agents were my people. They weren’t faceless, their scarifications told their stories. The Yoruba, Nupe, Igalas and people from the other side of the delta. I see you.
Betrayed by their voices and high on pot, my country men – took the strong and left the weak.
Did they forgot me. Cowards? Did their hands betray them? Or were they too blood stained already?
They took him – best father in the world – shot down on market day, felled like a skittle, who will make my hot chocolate tonight? – Who will give me away when Emeka finally plucks up the courage?
‘Wait oh, have they’ve taken Emeka?’
The gunshots get louder and the agents get bolder. They’ve started on the weak.
‘Wetin we go do?’ cry the women, ‘They’ve taken the men, they’ve taken our food, now they want our daughters.
I keep looking for a sign, Ogbunigwe continues its journey dropping thunder on a burning town.
Why? I ask, just finish the job.
Meteor rubble burns my clothes. I strip and wait for it to take me.
The women copy me. They think it’s a sign. They strip. We stand naked as we came.
We sing the battle songs our mothers sang fighting the colourless agents.
They raise their instruments to shoot. They stop.