Teary Days Poem by Nkwain Stephen

I and my mother's children
lost more than we can bear.
Here is my brother's remains
Cold as ice,
Straight like a ruler.
He was carrying no rifle
He had no cutlass
And no knife
Not even a pen had he
But his excellency never spared him.
Even now that I stand
Under the shaddow of bullets
Caressed by the aroma of death,
I still think I am human.
For pushed by these hot flames,
I tried to develope a tail and horns
But discovered I was leaning on clouds;
And planting my seeds on a river.
Yes I am human!
And never wil I be a dog
As his excellency thinks
Yes I am human!
And will surely be missed by men
when my heart ceases to beat.