Along the frontline the justice stabbed too
The more the lust; profusely men bled
And cries and sobs; anthem of the day
And love and peace departed before warriors.
Behind the fallen men, justice stood not bruised
And honor and true victory went to men
Who preserved them swords unstained.
When the soul travelers had known remorse
The fire had already brought them despair and anguish
And sorrow pounded in their chest like the plague
And their heavy wails;
Chinking the inferno walls
And there cried Columbus aloud and aloud
“War is sour, war is sour,
Make I an advocate; lemme go preach the world the lie
That “War is foul, and hell, not a jail for a man with soul”
There and there the heavens quaked
Beside Abram’s throne a soul reproached
“Nay Nay―the road is one,
When you wish to be slain like fowl
You can’t refuse to yowl
The sword is word without push
It be true, war is sour, hatred and horror in ambush
Wobble, moan, groan; accept whatever war could give
See― a thin boiling cataract running down your cheek in despair
Ho, ho! Soldier in tear!
Should Thee spare thy soul,
Go tell the world war is vain and war is foul!”
©Awuah Mainoo Gabriel
African-spear
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