Original poem by Amarachi Ogbonnaya
Sandy soil doth lay,
Bones cracking in swirling wind,
Journeys lay in thy memory,
Of fickle mind, soon vanish,
Riveting journeys that once lived.
Through the mountains and seas,
Thy victories resounded,
In thy valor, you smother,
The weak were the pawns for slaughter,
Macabre of the West, ego surged.
Maidens came on a platter,
Heiresses gasp at thy glory,
Fist for attention became a sport,
Men tremble, travelers of doom,
At every stop, trouble loomed.
Now the hungry time roars,
All the gainful ego, long gone in time,
Yet it seemed like yesterday,
The night hath come,
Thy Praise singers now live in the grave,
Their praises live in remembrance.
