A BOMBED TRAIN CONTINUES THE GORY STORY OF A MORIBUND NATION |Ayobami Kayode



Chinelo; a nightingale caught in between two metals.

Chinelo; a bird tweeting with clipped wings as the world turned back on its heel.

Chinelo; a healer whose herbs turned into smokes before dawn.

Chinelo; God’s strength! Who strangled God’s strength? Blasphemy!
Who threw God’s strength back into heaven? rendering
the surface of the earth, powerless. Blasphemy!

I imagine this nation as; a flaming train with no
captain on board; a crown of amnesty sitting on
a blasphemer’s head; a land where bombs decide its
climate; a sealed mouth but smiley face waving
at the ruins of homeland; a nation where lullaby becomes
threnody as the coo of a new dream rises from a cot.

I do not want to continue documenting the horror that stings to
death the dreams of a people holding to the frail rope of hopes;
hopes seen as carcasses by the vultures governing this territory
But last week, a young doctor didn’t make it to the hospital – a Phoenix
Turned into smoke, a smoke died on the way, this way is an unanswered
Prayer, an everyday prayer of every citizen: dear lord, nah wetin ah go chop
Ah Dae find make i no jam wetin go chop me. But I swear,
God’s strength left Nigeria, i hope this is not blasphemous, but I swear,
Chinelo left Nigeria for a place that forces grief into our chest as requiem
Rented the air – Wildflower crushed to Where it came from – nothingness.

The relic of a bombed train flew and perched on the mouth of an Abuja
Imam on a minbar, relic too hot for him to carry in his mouth. He spat
It out, for all and Sundry to pick their portions. & his turban was lifted
Of his head, his head became our heads; shaved; desert; nothing
Grows here, just sand that cannot hold our liberty as citizens. Heads
awaiting sand dune/doom.

God, I’ve documented the tragedy of my nation again. Kindly forgive me.
This tragedy is a whale, the goodies in this nation are like the body of
Jonah.
God, return your strength to this place, the presence of your strength
Means these vultures will no longer have feast of carcasses
I learnt that he who kills vultures will never live up to twenty years, i
Know this doesn’t apply to your majesty. Dear God, return Chinelo.

Bio:
He is a student interested in writing and academics. He is a Literature in English student at Usmanu Danfodiyo University, Sokoto. He is the Interviews Lead of Book O’Clock Review and the editor in chief of The Poetry CLUB UDUS. His works have been published or forthcoming in konya shamsrumi, punocracy, àtẹ́lẹwọ́, BBPC anthology, icefloepress, fieryscribe, cult of Clio, isele, Kalahari and elsewhere. He hails from Ibadan, Oyo state.

SAI Sabouke
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Sai Sabouke is a writer living in New Bussa, Nigeria. He’s a dervish who sees Sufism, history and language as formidable tools for society regeneration. His writing has appeared in Praxis Magazine Online and Agbowo. Sabouke loves beans, coffee and dreams of roasting the entrails of vultures.