My daughters, my tears

I have passed through the scourge
Of a pregnant woman
Yet this scourge I can’t dodge
I can’t dodge death’s dreadful plan

I laboured chai chai!
Was delivered of my children
Giving thanks to God on high
Only to see them in death’s den

They weaned
Longed for my succulent breast
Their arms of daily need
Stretched for bread

They can’t remain with me
They’ve to fend for me
Through the thorns and thistles of Chibok
They ran out of luck

They were taken away
They’ve not been found till today
My daughters in the hands of danger
My daughters in the hands of warmongers
Were they taken to the north?
To the south, east or west?
Have they been brought to naught?
There is God ooo!

My daughters are dying!
I await their homecoming!
Na only you waka come?
Bring them back to mum.
I don’t need their bodies alone
Nor their souls alone
I need their souls and their bodies
To tell me the Chibok stories.
Samuel O. Uzoh is with the Dept. of Philosophy, University, Ibadan