The Ball Of Flame Poem by Babatunde Idowu Ebenezer

Down, down and down
It descended from the sky
like rain.
Down and fast like a fallen
star.
Bright and Loud it came
from above.
Bringing into memory the
popular story
Of Sodom and Gomorah in
the Bible.
Furiously it descended like
an injured Robin,
Killing everything in its path
like war,
Scattering pieces of human
flesh around like a bomb,
Down it rained on the
innocents residents like
brimstone.
The Ball of Flame.
Among the torn
unconsumable meats,
Flow the blood of innocents
children in their sprouting
period,
Men and women in their
prime,
Taken by surprise their own
sudden call
To the sepulchre sound
Of the toiling bell
Beyond the seven black
lakes,
Only reachable by a journey
of no return.
Among the flown scarlet
liquid of life,
Wallow the torn carcasses of
innocent residents,
Resting in their homes after
a blessed or is it a cursed
sunday service?
Children at their neighbours
to watch a much bragged
about football match,
Never to go back to their
parent again,
Caught like others, unaware
By the trail of the ball.
The Ball of Flame.
Though condolences are
flying here and there,
National flag is flying at
half mast,
And all presidential
engagement cancelled.
But I can't but ask myself
again and again,
Why this country again?
Why this set of people?
Fate, destiny or
carelessness?
But those that could only
answer my questionnaires if
printed are the same taken
along by
The Ball of Flame.
And so I join the consoling
Samaritans to say
May their gentle souls rest in
perfect peace,
May God grant their families
the fortitude to bear the
irreparable loss.
Whether or not it comes from
their heart or just their
mouths,
The protocol must be
followed.
The Ball of Flame.