ruins of war

i sat still. my soul on the run, my heart,
hung on a burning stick. i kept my mind
in the beginning of my body & swallowed
everything that comes around into my
brain. a boy sat with his mother, half-
burnt; himself, half-baked in the fiery sun
that kept on bellowing. i was also
a victim. i lost one of my arms while trying
to figure out where my mother died, or
where she was fried. i lost an eye also–
i am a ruin of war. i am the remnant
of a deflowered city. it is the boy, again,
calling on me. beckoning, at my dangling hand.
i sat there, and stared at him. what does a boy
deserve in a moment of disarray? what
chisels the soul of a boy when everything human
goes astray? this boy called me hope. he
called me help. he called me believe. he
said i am everything good that comes from
the west! again, i asked myself: why are boys
so ignorant? when i am everything that comes
from the west! i saw him. he grabbed his pale mother
& searched her eye sockets, as if hope had
a way of hiding itself inside them.

*

Ayòdéjì Israel is a student at the University of Ibadan, Ibadan. He is a Nigerian and he writes from there. He is known for being a poet, writer, a political activist, and many other things. His works have appeared/forthcoming on Livina Press, Kreative Diadem Magazine, and Arts Lounge Magazine. You can find him on Twitter @Ayo_einstein.