DON’T LET ME DIE.

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She watched  her helpless self

Torn in pieces of fire.

They burn her, and curse, and

The dying untiring, until she bleeds,

Die, awake, trudge, and mourn.

She gather wounds, and life too

Heavy to take her into tomorrow.

 

Untiring  counts of

Aborted souls and cheap

Blood!

What is holy with hell?

What devotion pushed

Such hearts, and the renewed stabs?

 

 

She is a woman who

Slows to live…

Will the night come again

To renew my wounds,

After the harvest of working

To believe?

 

The butchers say she will

Die, and their banner is

sworn, even as children look

to pirate’s banner and

Cannot see God…

 

Who will bring the

Times when children were

Born into so many hands,

That carried them to

The temple of love?

 

How did we wake to

This place?

How did children grow

In the wild, while we watched

Them in the house?

 

Did they share from

The place where we came from?

We watched aliens create

Strange things before our

Faces, and called the brains

To treat them.

 

Now they cut everything

With a surgical knife!

So we watched them grow

With compromised and poisoned

Hands, and play Assembly

With everything….

 

Are these people amongst

Us?

How did we publish their

License? They come now

Like loosed wolves on display….

 

Who will spend the strength

Going up, going down?

 

Down the avenue

Of strange places, again,

And again, I hear the spirit

Of NIGERIA say:   DON’T LET ME DIE!

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