Elegy for a dead home
We no longer live in a world of mortals;
We don’t do things like them again.
Our homes are distinct – arms apart, body-decomposing,
We’re here; beneath the ground, dug up six feet
at the backyard, sleeping on our cradle bed.
We hear their scuffing feet approaching – hitting the boulder,
clearing the shards of our home.
How we never wished to end up here – a celestial home of infant sorrows.
How we never wished to be pedigrees of a dead home.
We’re sleeping here; our home laid this bed for us.
We are victims of its remains.
We’ll inhale peace here
We’ll tell God our home killed us.
Emmanuel Ojeikhodion is a Lagos-based Writer who majors in poetry. He writes with a tortured soul. His poems have been published on Praxis magazine. He studies English and Literature at the University of Benin, Southern Nigeria.