Shooting Stars

Just like morning stars,
Passing with the rising sun
The young souls took flight
Like fiery shooting stars
ahead of the rising sun.

Lighting up the morning skies
Like fireworks without warning,
Onto the unsuspecting Jos skies.
Fireworks of souls, visible only
to the angels sent to escort them
home, after their brief sojourn
In a wicked, wicked world;
Which turns babies, little angels
sent to be her light, into venting bags
for her wicked fury of untamed hate.

Hate,spilling over in the wee hours of that
fateful day in a sleeping Jos village.

Machetes, swords, knives, daggers,
flashing, in the wee hours, startling,
cutting,slashing, maiming, beheading,
disemboweling and wasting
babies, little angels, and their
mothers as they slept.

Swift, painful deaths and quick
exits, souls zipping like shooting stars
into the great beyond;
Like fireworks exploding into the arms
of angels taking them back to their
maker.
By sunrise when the morning stars
had gone, the world discovers-
dead babies, little angels, and their
earthly guardian angels littered
everywhere, gruesome carnage here;
But now peacefully looking down from there,
on a wicked desperate world.

Alleluia.

Nwada (Lady) Chinwe Enemchukwu
Onye Uwa Oma
na Orlando, Florida
Copyright © May 2010