Thu. Feb 15th, 2024

It was the smell; hot and lusty

Like desire too long denied

Swelling, dangerous waves,

Tossed by careless winds

It was the listless darting

It was the ashes

Black patches where men walked

But their knees gave way too quickly

It was only the image of a man

Unforgivingly straight, a blind eyed gaze

Glistening bright under sun and polish

Called Maker by his skilful makers

Three fools still standing

Like blooms out of season

Amidst bowed heads and hands raised

In desperate supplication to the dead

His Majesty’s fury was a terror

How their voices shook as they stood

Clipped commands carried them

A flick of furious fingers

One, two, many cries

Stop!

Strolling in the raw red glow

Amidst the greedy licking inferno

Three fools strolling and still

A fourth man in the furnace

Son of a God not cast in bronze

Walked among them in the impotent blaze.

Written by Maranatha Chibundom Abraham

By Jennifer Ihuoma Abraham

Jennifer Abraham holds a bachelors degree in English Language and Literature and a Post Graduate Diploma in Education. She has practiced journalism since after her national youth service assignment in 1989 as an independent TV producer/presenter and magazine editor; focusing on entrepreneurship, personal and community/natural resources development. She has attended broadcasting courses sponsored by the United States Information Service and Science Reporting Workshops with the African Technology and Policy Studies Network. She is also a teacher, a preacher of the gospel of Jesus Christ and has partnered with NGOs, Government Agencies and individuals to promote philanthropic causes.

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