The Highways Of Grief Poem by Chinedu Dike

The yellow sands became a silent beast,
That crawled across the map on dusty claws.
It gathered human lives from west to east,
And ground them down within its golden jaws.

The caravan became a winding snake,
That shed a trail of white and broken bone.
It left a path of sorrow in its wake;
Millions of souls in bondage left to groan.

The sea became a wide and watery grave,
Where wooden vessels carried weeping cargo far.
The coastal winds ignored the plea to save,
And blew them underneath a foreign star.

The market scale was tipped by cruel greed,
Where blocks of salt were balanced with a face.
A tragic cycle planted bitter seed,
That grew inside the bleeding tribal space.

In foreign lands the earth became a forge,
Where human clay was hardened by the sun.
The fields were forced to yield a greedy gorge,
On stolen sweat until the day was done.

The heavy whip became a biting tongue,
that spoke in scars across the helpless back.
The spiked Irons and wooden gallows hung,
To crush the spirits that masters lack.

Yet thunder rolled across the toxic mire,
When broken spirits rose to break the chain.
They marched against the rulers of the empire,
And washed away the slime with crimson rain.

The ancient paths are covered by the sand,
But modern soils still nurse the hidden scar.
The exiled souls cannot be confined,
For out of darkness rose a morning star.