Shadows of restless bows
are the portraits hung between
bloody corridors of our ancient minds.
We have trekked the south
Swayed across the river in the west
Swam against the heavy wind tide in the north
To fight against rebels in the east gate.
We are men of dignity
Fighting for our integrity.
slaughtered even their children
so we cant spare the men.
Only the owl holds the vision
that sees us through the thick dusk
Only the vulture can tell of our good deeds.
Once upon our deep snore
Arrows pierced our dreams
on the night before our village's carnival
turning our ground (too) into
a grave of fate.
We were looted of our names
And we were tagged with shameful surnames
Has destiny become a faint moon?
We were once the tribes whose name
shook heavens, caused them to tear a drop
of regrets upon forsaken lands.
Western wind has blown our pride away
We are the naked people (now), dancing
amidst a quenched fire and burnt glories.
We are the remains of war
kept alive to witness the fainting death
of our mudded name
Agarau is a student of Nutrition and Dietetics from the Federal polytechnic, Ede. A writer of happenings whose pen knows no lie. He started writing in 2013 and is proud of hundreds of his work. He has been featured in several anthologies and also spoken poetry on stages like Be Blessed and Artmosphere.