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Poetry

Morning Weep

A Piece By: Siona Lootu

I weep for humanity.

I weep for the children,
The young lives lost, stolen, snuffed out in this genocide,
I weep for the loss of humanity,
For the soullessness that creeps into the hearts of men.

This morning, I weep.

May the souls of the torturers know no peace.
May their restless spirits wander, haunted by the echoes of their sins.
And may the souls of the tortured,
May they find peace in knowing the end is almost nigh.

I weep this morning.
I weep for the lives of men and women,
For futures robbed,
For dreams undone,
For peace torn from their grasp.

I weep for their homes,
The walls once warm, now crumbled into cold ash.
I weep for their families,
Their love severed, their bonds ripped apart by brutality.

This morning, I weep.
I weep for humanity.

By: Nyambura

We have to dismantle the myth that desire is a monster that cannot be tamed,
That men are just beasts driven by an untamable flame.
No.
Men are architects.
Men are protectors.
Men are human.
And humans can decide what is sacred….

By: Siona

She is seated at the centre of herself
while time rots at her feet.
The clocks melt, you’d think she is careless,
Could it be grief?

By: Siona

It’s nuts, I know.
Well, the story I’m about to tell.
It’s closer, maybe, to nuts. Like the knucklehead kind…

By: Siona Lootu

I weep for humanity.
I weep for the children,
The young lives lost, stolen,

By: Nyambura

A rose by any other name
would still smell as sweet,
but who says it has to behave?

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