What shadow would bridge the splatter splash of
angry guns, greeting the eyes of the boy —
Than the rattles from his haunting eye-sight'd?
What soft hands would be as the tears he cried,
The comforting tears from -eyed- gushing bloods?
The eye candle would flame its blinks, that's all.
Yet would it be; that he'd eye sighted would
hurt nor would shutting of blind nor soft hands
grace the last word of his murdered father.
Nor would the State know the Bok+o victims
are dead to the breathing lives, for, they have
met death from cradle, what new gift is grave?
Yet is it, that life values least of noth',
For, with thin air breathed are there accosted
Savagery to man, but the State mightn't know...
Akinwale Peace Akindayo
Painting by Bruno Amadio (Wikipedia)