Songs of Anisha
“Sun-Sets,”
by Abraham Yahaya
when you bid farewell,
you kiss the earth
and leave traces
of angry shadows,
whose distance we cannot march.
these shadows
you must take,
and bring back our
golden clouds.
“The Plague (HIV/ AIDS)”
by Uchenna Ekwerenmadu
Since we’ve not found the blade
That’s fit to shave its giant logs
It steals into our kingdom
Hiding like weed amongst wheat
And sniping at our soldiers
Unbarring our gates to guests
And driving us mad with cares
Turning us into monsters
To frighten our kith and kin.
It owns a million plaques
Each piece a prize for a thousand soul
That’s fallen by its sword.
“Burnt Diary,”
by Abigail George
You formidable unveiled on every expedition
You dazzling unpredictable black and white speak
Look at me let me go past is past silence is golden.
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