#Poetry: FOR HER LIBERATION - by Andrew Ifeatu Jennifer

She tilled the soil,
A plantain tree stands for the toil.
Eyes blindfolded,
Tongue tied in loops;
Separated from her plantain plantation,
Her presence makes her plantation's belly churn.

Behind bars,
Heated in anger like one frustrated in Mars;
Hands and feet in chains
She nibbles off the crumbs and decayed grains.
The judge is her father
But her justice traveled farther.


A herdsman emerges to aid,
With poverty and anguish he squeezes her into Hades;
People by the Niger disappear and fade.
I heard the nationalist paid;
Why are we here today?

Throat sealed! No regurgitation.
Decayed humus-filled belly ceases purgation,
Perpetual dry eyes with mopped up tears,
Toiling skin that never sweats,
Hippocrates takes to his heels;
It's idiopathic! I only cure but God heals.

Sanctification!
Liberation!
Who will carry out a deliverance?
The white garments whip her buttocks and hands,
Rolling and cursing in holy exorcism
Let's pray it's her liberation season.


Propellerads

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