Smoking Gun.... Poem by Merlin Mwaura

Smoking Gun....



Where there is night, and rules abound
to sinister and perilous adventures...
Where uncommon occurrences prevail,
Where evil looms...
adhering to the bones that are of a terrifying nature
Taboos grace the occasion,
to birth the screaming of souls..
and the end of life.

A night ago, where many alike sat before a screen
watching some evening news.
A moment later a literature of bullets
Three profound verses wailed into the air.
Our eyes gorged out, what binoculars they made of us.

We wait…
Unsure, of what we heard? ? ?
what is going on...? We seem to ask with miming precision.
some of us, the brave ones I presume,
proceed to have a peak over the fuss...
But Lo! …
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Stopped short in our tracks,
everyone scatters,
torrents rising up the flight of stairs.
It is the feet of men, terrified to their wits
Seeking whatever safety assumed by this frenzied lot.

Another pair go off… bullets I mean!
And they seemed a little muffled,
As if finding their desired target.
While our cowering soon starts to fade…
Inquiring from no one in particular…laughing at our own silly fright.
Some of us not so proud of where they crawl out off.

But nonetheless,
We find the night waiting to reveal,
Like a Mafia Chief, disgust by our haste
What cowards! It seems to say…
The wind blows a cold cry; a mother in Africa is lost a son.
A young man, with impressive footwear…
Lay on the tarmac, several feet from our rusty gate…
He breaths his last without a comment commenced.
When he is no more, our tongues proceed to tell tales,
Look there… “ A smoking gun! ”….
[Rest in peace - Anonymous Stranger]

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