The screams: A cry for revolution

I HEAR voices coming from the wilderness,

I see a stampede running down the mountain,

The screams grow shriller, nearer,

The ground is shaking, louder

I hear the voices of a people;

A cry for revolution.

Helon Habila: The Pre-rain Streets at Dawn.

Walking the pre-rain street at Dawn,

I feel life’s ante rising sharply with the clouds;

Dead bodies bob and sink in road side gutters

Flotsam, like cigarette butts floating in life’s

Backwaters; the starting eyes, the gaping mouths

That have lost their song, their scream, their message.

The gunshots grow louder, closer

The screams grow shriller, nearer

Thoughts desert the mind

Void, like a post coup d’etat street and the whole body

Becomes legs, digging potholes in the asphalt,

Burning rubber, jumping fences, seeking a hole to wait out

The storm.

Chinelo, 22, is an English language undergraduate, and vice president of ‘Conglo Writers and Actors (formerly Transcultural Writers Network) of University of Lagos. She writes prose, poetry, articles, reports and blogs at @Krietivenation.