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I had eaten only three Christmases,
When Nigeria split open like a volcano.
I knew not what it really was,
But the air was pregnant with unexplained fears.
Tales of war from weary lips,
Airplanes overhead on mysterious errands,
Little babes strapped on mothers' backs,
Too young to know, too young to learn
Why life's bridges hang on feeble strands.
Every now and then the heavens roar,
Young and old scamper under green leaves,
Crawling on bellies faster than boars,
I scarcely could know what was amiss...
The sights and sounds of Biafra, still scorn
All memories of mine unto this day,
The sight of helmets, of guns and boots,
Still stand erect in my inner eye,
Christ, oh Christ, I remember I asked,
Why did you ever create soldiers?
I remember I knelt and clasped my breast,
No answer came to my unvoiced question,
I never knew life could go on without wars.
Memories...memories...mem ories...
A mere knock on the door sent me under the bed,
Memories of my thumping heart,
Memories of human forests in leafy gear,
Memories of narrow winding bush paths,
I wish I could wave a final bye
To these ugly scars of infant years.

Learn more about this author, Osam Edim.
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