Whirlwind Poem by Arnee Akpan

We fluctuate, we are unstable.
The journey began in 1960s bus stop of colonization,
We are stuck in the center where the starting point is far but our future is still unknown.
Everywhere looks foggy,
Our lives not certain because the wind blown is too hard to bear.
We don't sojourn through the desert,
We dwell in the Sahara,
The wind has blown apart our future.



The whirlwind has blown dusts and dirts into our white garments,
The hurricane has blown sand dunes into the eyes of those on horse,
They can't see our present.
Their ears have gone deaf because the whirlwind sound has overpowered our wails.



The whirlwind of our present,
The whirlwind of doom.