Amos Christopherson

1996 - Poem by Amos Christopherson

On a bright cool Thursday morning
I heard rapid footsteps
Come from where I had gone
To see what fight might have been happening

I lived in town for the last two years
All my property was enough to make me proud
They broken through doors of people
Looted, burnt what they didn’t like

Destroyed what meant to my people
My room was not broken since I left it open
The glass furniture and all that I called mine
Laid down in particles and pieces

After the whole four months I spent in a refugee camp
A few who came back to foresee of their property
Never came back to the camp
Fear was what I valued to save my life

For war started from the town centre
Where we had all our might to survival
Where beautiful women made business
Where new age youth found bread and bed

Topic(s) of this poem: War

Comments about 1996 by Amos Christopherson

  • Sentamu Aziz (9/24/2014 9:28:00 AM)

    Nice one... sounds memorial (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, April 23, 2014

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