A Poem

A Poem

On bloody clash between herdsmen and indigenes in Nigeria


  • We are Africa; not because we tread her sacred soil but because we unleash our kindred spirit when the talking drum hisses.
  • The sound of Africa is heard in the winds and we are its very quintessential essence. We hear the healing sound in roots and herbs.
  • The colours of Africa dazzle me in the sun for we are the variegated pallette of the creator. Our hue is who we are.
  • Africa! My Africa!
    Look upon the firmaments above-
    Behold the only thing greater than you.

Whyte Queen

I grabbed the moon and hid it under my pillow. Follow @poetic_poesy on IG for poems from my sinking stinking mind

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