Flowers of Chibok


Flowers of Chibok


There, you had resided in a space

that shielded you from the chaos outside.

As you walked the halls of that mental garden

the desk was your soil,

the book and pen your well-spring.

Caring hands cultivated your being,

grew you in maturity and knowledge

from seeds, to saplings to young flowers,

our flowers,

meant one day to pollinate the continent

with your wisdom.

But now we look in anguish 

at your garden burned to ashes.

We decry how religious insanity

snatched you from your roots,

now holds your tired, withered

stem in its clutches.

From Chibok to Lagos,

New York to London,

we search for you and demand your release.

Like farmers with stolen crops we hunt for your thieves,

while setting aside a homecoming patch

where the desk, the book and the pen

can help you grow again.










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