Songs of Anisha
“The Blackout,”
by Chiedu Ezeanah
Swooped by a blackout
another day outages
into the stone-age
seeking a spark.
The noxious relief of plants
in the hub of darkness
tinders homes and breaths.
The sky’s solar eye dimmed
by infernal flares yields
the monochrome of night.
Knees still bleed, suppliant,
unsung in the extinguished light.
Our only Republic beams darkness-
where does the light live, and, bless?
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