My Humble Home Poem by Kingsley Egbukole

The small red hut of mud earth
Was revered grandpa's shrine
Where he communed with his 'chi'
To reach the 'ndiche' and 'chukwuokike'
When man and earth were still in harmony
Before the regrettable grand deception
That branded our culture barbaric

The hut was sacred and used by none
Except grandpa who understood
The strange ways of the gods
And the guttural voice of theirs
As all beheld the hut is awe
Before the bombardment of the royal house
The evil effect of the civil war

The rumbles of the burning family house
With thick smoke bellowing there from
Cast grave desolations
In the hearts of royalties
Whose day turned to darkness
And grandpa's once awed hut
Became a living house for us.

(Thursday,14/12/2023,6.21am)