School Poetry-3: DINING TABLE By Gbanabom Hallowell

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Hello people who are actually paying attention to my series,

I’m continuing with another African poem. This one is a sad one by Gbanabom Hallowell which tells the story of the eleven year old Sierra-Leonean war. Get yourself some tissues before reading because if you actually read it with your imaginative mind, you might cry.

Without further ado, I present to you, lovely readers, The Dining Table:

Dinner tonight comes with

 gun wounds. Our desert

tongues lick the vegetable

blood—the pepper

strong enough to push scorpions

 up our heads. Guests

look into the oceans of bowls

 as vegetables die on their tongues.

 

The table

that gathers us is an island where guerillas

walk the land while crocodiles

 surf. Children from Alphabeta with empty palms dine

with us; switchblades in their eyes,

 silence in their voices. When the playground

 is emptied of children`s toys

who needs roadblocks? When the hour

to drink from the cup of life ticks,

cholera breaks its spell on cracked lips

 

Under the spilt

milk of the moon, I promise

 to be a revolutionary, but my Nile, even

without tributaries comes lazy

upon its own Nile. On this

 night reserved for lovers of fire, I’m

full with the catch of gun wounds, and my boots

have suddenly become too reluctant to walk me.

Did you get the emotions? How did you understand this? Let me know your thoughts in the comments.

Thanks for reading. 🙂

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