Residual

Abdo, Lebanese IDP
Photo Courtesy: UNHCR

We y'all smug

As froth in a mug.

And we don't even ask why

Our moment of truth resides in a lie. 

Our days go boom,

Our nights is gloom.

One man brings harm with guns

While the other's armed with bombs.

Our sunset on Tigray,

Here's where the moon fell down,

And here, and here. Kale's the entrée. 

We love that sound

It's the rhythm of death pangs.

Hell's busybody gang

Pitched tent

In the place where we are;

Love's spent.

A blow will mend a scar.

Akpan