UNTITLED

The heart of the Plateau is engraved upon mine.

I wake up thinking about her, I dream dreams for her.

My thoughts of her are an echo of the singing-musical,

bleeding-weeping, peaceful- promising Plateau

The pains of the daily strife and struggle,

which increased since her peace was shattered.

At the dawn of the millennium

she became prey to the disaster that once befell others

Shocking and depraving was the fate that fell upon her

Perhaps wounds from hurts from the past were left to fester

Perhaps we just cloaked the issues with our prayers,

making them disappear with a wand of an “Amen”

Hence we are left with this.

The heavens seem shut to her cry as her children and women are killed mercilessly

Fathers and brothers who once never stayed home found a reason to become vigilantes

They held vigil in the spots they thought best to protect what was left of their homes.

The villages once a haven for the destitute from the city,

now seem like a hades of sorts

Like the rose whose petals fall; her beauty and serenity no longer attest for anything

Her thorns stark sharp as the branch dries, causes her neighbors and friends flee for dear life

The peace, comfort and prosperity they once enjoyed has been snatched from under their feet

Some lost loved ones, their clients, businesses and the things that made the Plateau tick for them

Some lost everything, others didn’t even live to tell their stories.

So they left, as anyone would when the danger comes crawling at their backyard

And there is no justification left for why they have to remain here

I wouldn’t blame them it’s called survival.

They left! Taking all they conceived, birthed and nurtured with them.

Leaving behind a curtain of emptiness for the folks who call this place their homeland

Blackened walls, deserted buildings, inaccessible roads and no-go areas now litter the landscape

Leaving us now awake to the reality to clean things up

For long we left it all to the government, our neighbors, our friends

And now we have to start the restoration ourselves

From the homes to the schools, the offices ,shops and market stands

From the churches and the mosques

With our different tribes and tongues.

With our biases left undone.

The call to restore beckons!

Most who call this place home,

would rather be where the street lights shine and cobbled streets line

Where the high-rises, the malls, the elevators are

and the now #Trending issues are en-vogue.

I like the city life, I like it a lot!

It drives you through modernity, mingles you with the crowd

Gets you in the thick of things and leaves you lost in its awe.

It challenges you to get “bigger” and be “better” than the next guy

So you shine like stars among its many bright lights…

Every once in a while my heart’s alarm stirs me up,

so much and more often than I expect

Calling me to look to the Hills, to find my way through the cold rocks,

down the falls and over the table like plains

Across the fields, through the not so pretty streets,

the somewhat tall buildings and the somewhat elevated stairs

Calling me back home to the Plateau.

My heart is in a dilemma but for how long can I shut this voice down?

I just have to get up and go

I am in Love with my home!