I am reading

from words that were written
to the eyes of widows
and hearts of warriors
whenever they pour from their hearts
they also pour from their eyes
I find it in their plots
that their hopes bled
and their stomach starved
they hid behind rocks
moved around in flocks
fed on breast milk
unwillingly moaned
chose to push to the end
never did their faith bend
they beat drums of anarchy
played flutes of war
sew their mothers’ tongues
but saw their leader leave
yet, they chose to live
and from them on
this is what we have become
“as a family
we should never be at war again
not now. not ever”

Tomide Abdul