Casualties Of Freedom Poem by Auaduma Adookorn

On a journey of free rein, our life, the aged
chameleon linger behind at the rear,
on a promising but, thorny terrain

Unable to keep pace at cock crow,
as the symphony of birds give way
to orchestral of thrilling machine gun,

ruby glow of flaring slugs pierce
through panic blood-thirsty night
behead palms, amputate trees and lap

meadow grass with fiery tongue,
fell many barehanded lives; they lie,
dead logs, who demanded for their right

we crawl over bodies of silent logs with
wobble kneel of four-legged monkeys
driven by a pride of blood-thirsty lion

Helpless Orpington we watch the dark
with the curious eyes of eagle, waited
to quit one after another

Emotion, our arm; we fight with feeling,
build castles of hay in the air!
The giant of Africa stoop low, engage

armless lives with armies of occupation--
the carnival night bleed blood,
the hamlet is on fire

The great horn of the shrine is broken--
Damkwa is dead!

Grass will embalm him
Birds will mourn him
Vultures will bury him,
their belly is his grave

The dead are no casualties--
they lose their shadow, etch their
memory on the terrain of free rein

The living dead die in fear, quit
the journey, lost their life many times
before it's lost; they sit on the fence, watch

weight filled with superbia, cover
the bank and bay, gulp the shore.