A perfectly imperfect place
Where lingering hopes and dreams
Are blown away by the wind of misery.
A place where aspirations and goals
Are only achievable by dreaming.
Chaos and war
The new order of the day.
Peace and hope
An archaic belief and ordeal.
The sweet melody from my mother’s voice
Now a scornful and painful wail.
Now sad elegies and dirges.
The peasant farmer toil the earth
But does not reap his sowed seed.
The trader of happiness
gets no buyer in the market of disdain
As every buyer wait for their moment of salvation.
The smiling ogre comes along
Fills the bellies of the peasants
With non-lasting joy and happiness,
Leaves them at their own detriment
At the end of the day.
Trampled upon with dismay.
The piper no longer detects the tone
And what’s good for the goose,
No longer a share of the gander.
The woodpecker pecks deeper
Into the only surviving tree of hope.
Can there really be no moment of redemption?
Has the nightingale retired with it’s beautiful song?
Mother earth’s reward to us
Has been disrupted
And we have been secluded
Like the unfamiliar urchins
To scavenge our retarded hopes.
At night I ponder
While looking outside my window
To greet the stars
With my teary eyes
And my soured soul
With it’s faint refulgence
Barely caressing my broken soul.
Take our sad songs
And deliver our souls errand.
Sing it out loud to our ancestors
Who are stuck at the other side
With no hope of return
To aid our wailing souls.
Happiness can only be found
In the dessert of misery
And none journeys there
And ever returns home.
I retire to my world of Solitude
The only place left with joy
And a promising future of ideas
Which I hope to bring with me
Into the real world.
Haruna Dahiru is a 21 years old writer from Abuja. He is a student of the Ahmadu Bello University Zaria, Kaduna studying mass communication, a writer whose specialty is in poems and Novels.
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