THIS IS A STORY.

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This is a story
Of a boy whose soul tells a tale of sadness;
Of the night his mother was defiled;
Of the day sister’s life sojourned faraway,
Torching down the grass-thatched houses in the village.

This is a story
Of a boy whose eyes houses sorrowful tears;
Of the day they matched in his newly found home,
Recruiting any man young and fit for the battle field;
Of the day he was forced to watch his father bleed to death.

This is a story
Of a boy who carried burdens of wars and revenge –
Renewed was his strength and anger fighting to victory,
& with much celebration and joy people made him king,
But at his first speech, his voice cracked with endured pain.

This is a story
Of a boy forced into adulthood,
Entrusted with heavy responsibilities of leadership –
The yoke of imperialism laid on his hands;
Conquering nations and maintaining the legacy.

This is a story
Of the boy whose beard labeled him a man,
But the boy in him still cowered at thunderstorms –
In the night’s restlessness he’d secretly cry for mommy,
Stargazing, wishing a fairy would grand him a wish.

©brendamartha

2018.

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