Don't Talk About Death

Don’t talk about death

I’m kinda missing life as is

I wish I could be there

I got too much life to live

The theme of the news is death

Facebook posts publish death

YouTube videos produce death

Twitter hashtags…

Git me the hell outta here

Don’t talk about death

I paid my debt

So I just wanna collect

Death is the new pet

In Libya, Syria, Sudan

The whole earth is a battlefield

Blood-bleached sands bleed magenta

Sanity is thinning shield

Don’t talk about death

The auricle is lead.

Akpan

Houdini Girl

 

When Yusra Houdini (I mean Mardini) fled from Syria to Europe, her boat’s engine died and it began to take on water, Yusra pushed the boat towards Greece for 3.5 hours. She swam for her life and lived to swim for the first Refugee Olympic Team (ROT) at the Rio Olympics.

They all could have gone to heaven in a lil’ rowboat

Fetching the blind denouement to lives built on tragedies.

They thought it was the end of a beautiful anecdote

But your charm and grace brought a twist to the story,

Plotting a route thro troubled waters like a sea creature

You were the courage-fueled motor that found a landfall,

A personality having in herself facility to produce light.

Hardiness of your heart has percolated into souls to ignite

And crystallize minds that otherwise was habitat to despair.

You are the dream and the hope of 21 million battle-scarred.

Akpan

Related articles

• The Refugee Olympic Team Now Has Its Own Flag and Anthem
• UNHCR #WithRefugees petition heads to UN Secretary-General
• Refugee team adds luster to the Olympic ideal
• Olympian Swam Three Hours To Save 20 Refugees While Fleeing Syria
• The Refugee Nation Creates Flag for Refugee Olympic Team
• All-new refugee team wins hearts, if not medals, at Rio Olympics

When a Child is Bombed

A rescued Boko Haram child suicide bomber

When a child is bombed

The basis for rejoicing is stolen

The sound of laughter is stilled

Or it falls flat like the cackles of Gollum

On the eardrum making the sense of loss emphatic.

When a child is bombed

There's always an untold story erupting

Within calling out things forbidden to imagine.

A restlessness which amps up the fears of all the years

Confronts our doubts and strips bare our worst nightmares.

When a child is bombed

The weight of a shroud alights and grief is pronounced

As we recall 'tis the season the Christ-child came down.

Peace and goodwill become the substance of a fairytale

And our Xmas wish lists are like statements of how we failed.

Akpan