THE NIGHT BEFORE MORNING

It was that night i saw it all

I curled on my cozy bed like an apostrophe

And stared at

The lantern light devoid of any glow

Confused,

A dead silence hung in the air

I wonder what had woken me

It was long past midnight

The neighbor's child didn't cry this night,how strange

I held my hands but i cannot get the grip

I sat up and muttered psalm with primitive faith

But it seems God has slept.

My telephone rang ricketily on the foot Stool

I pulled the receiver

And a voice,squeaking like a rat

Wind up at the receiver

—I felt his sweat dance down the edges of my ear

"Hey, don't you go out there

They've got me dear"

He slapped the rear on the thunderclap

Voices,though incoherent, i heard

I pulled my curtain to see

and there it was—

Heavy boots,Shrinking soldiers,Thick baton

Demon dogs darting dangerously

All slightly seen under the moonless night

A long roll of chained men,i saw vividly

Galloping up the Siren street,pulled by ghosts

I recognise the last of them

—My father!

I wanted to scream his name

I wanted to tell him books didn't lure me to sleep

So i could at least eclispe my eyes

Against the cauldron that boils this night

But they'll take me too

The morning saw the country strangely dressed

I heard slavery was Over—

Tears welled up the cheeks of women who stood by doorposts

hugging there husky husbands

who limps with one leg recoiled,like a Flamingo

I stood at the door post waiting for my father

but Ajasa,the drunkard came instead

Condolences,his tears gave

His eyes telling stories of war

And a war—

In which i knew my father will never return

With smoky tears,i ran

Possessed by loss,to my gloomy room

And peeped through my window and cried

"Lord,you are not of mercy of grace".

George O. Victor

The ghost👻

©2018