Trailing a journalist’s morose report from that region, the bombardments at various parts of Gaza have only recalled to centre stage the sheer human gluttony for senility; the senile repetitions of violence in the place of reconciling ties, plain war crimes in the place of advancing ideology.
The recurrence sullies, as in the headlong dive of entire humanity into indignity. It is so because when a people – sentient beings as they are – are severed from the self-worth an immediate environment is supposed to proffer, that same denial also permeates to the very wider global human society it is intimately linked with. Albeit variant in outlook and motive, that Palestinian grief is, in no way, dissimilar to the spate of extremism we have whelming this country Nigeria at the precipice.
Somewhere in Rafah, after more than twenty four hours of Isreali aerial attacks, at an average of five an hour, the city’s morgues have had to place the bodies of the dead in cold storage constructed for fruits and vegetables. Because cemeteries and funeral processions are also being assuaged, people are afraid to bury their dead.
Of pinwheel tails, of rent spires
Where ogres flash a sky-lane for
Earths to cast broken hairs
On her limbless leap, thawed
At firestorm. Lumps. Monster liege
In morbid walls of botanist skin . . .
A world’s lone trophy at dusk?
Her lips were split with missile rubs,
An anthem’s bait upon her thirst, yet
The pulsing skull of her would
Oyin Oludipe, playwright and student, writes from Abeokuta. His works have appeared on Herald Digest, The Kalahari Review and some other journals. He is a contributing poet to the anthology ‘We Cry for Peace’ with his poem, ‘The Elders of this Land. Find him on twitter @Sir_Muell.