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Wazani Ijarafu: A Breakage of Sorrowful Songs


– For Refugees who meet the killers of their people

we tread this earth

Chewing the sun on our tongue

In the broad day sun.

Killers of our kinsmen are here.

We open our mouth to speak

& it is fire that burns on our tongue

     How do you earthen

     The memory of a cavernous dream

     Of an entire clan swallowed

     By a river of fire.

The Government said it will rain again

They lied.

Their emissaries were sent here

They, who stole our pot of water

I heard they washed the killers of our kinsmen

Into a repentance for the unfaithful.

     How do you earthen

     The crevices in a Porter’s heart

     Who molds the path that leads

     Into a breakage of sorrowful songs.

The killers of our daughters are here

The killers of our mothers are here

The killers of our brothers are here

The killers of our fathers are here


Go, tell it to the town crier

Go before it is dawn

Let the night wear you its colour

Let the sand carry your footprints

Let the earth listen to the clamour

In the crowd of your pain.


Through a dark cloud, you represent our anguish.

A black cloth is blanketed

Through the streets of our hearts

Seashells ashore

& broken dreams

& broken songs

& broken bones

& broken faith

& broken love

& broken pots

& broken & broken freedom.


Poetry © Wazani Ijarafu
Image by Charly Gutmann from Pixabay (modified)

Wazani Adamu Ijarafu
Wazani Adamu Ijarafu
Wazani Adamu Ijarafu hopes to one day buy a mountain where people would not think gold was discovered. He wants to build a folk music Island for himself and to one day own a coffee cup. By night he's a Poet, by day he's a Poet. Math is but a borrowed course, he plans to return it to the owners.


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