1. Our heroes labour in vein Of what use is a heart if it cannot love For shedding one's blood for another's sake Is a mystery of passion, uncommon and rare One that only divine charity can understand. Your...
1. Our heroes labour in vein Of what use is a heart if it cannot love For shedding one's blood for another's sake Is a mystery of passion, uncommon and rare One that only divine charity can understand. Your body bears the token of pain Adorned by ornaments of grief You carry scars from battles you fought For people and country In your life, love is synonymous with loss With warm blood dripping from fresh wounds. Because it is easier for a warrior To bleed and die on the battlefield Paying ransoms for the oblivious tribe that Does not recognise the voice of its anthem Than to hide in the cold safety of apathy Allowing the heart to freeze and numb. Which one is harder, braveheart To love a mother(land) who Buried your afterbirth in a minefield Or to forgive a father(land) who Stripped you of everything good From innocence to laughter To the name you used to bear. Or to defend a country that covers you In shameless bloodbaths and lies Murdering your voice in burning buses And stolen livelihoods and inflation and strikes And your life's work reduced to ashes Dancing in the face of your afflictions while Monsters defile your toddlers on the streets. You rupture your vessels, pour out your love Crying out in agony, begging the dark sky To cave in on you, like a final sacrifice In a cold, lonely, unmarked grave Transcending the flesh, fighting and praying. For parents who murdered you For a people who betrayed you For friends who abandoned you For a nation that scorns at your grave. Yet you love / you pray / you fight You bleed for them all And not even death can stop you. 2. Trial by fire The hotter the furnace, the greater Purity a dore can attain; Behold the Radiance that blinds Sol Invictus. The law of transcendence reckons True enlightenment is preceded By willing pain; raging flames; and Loyalty to the wisdom of the artisan. So while the altar whistled in flames one Easter morning, I overcame mourning. But delighted in the burning chalice Melting into glowing fine gold. Afterwards, I carried the smelted chalice On my palms all over the city. 24 carats for free to any soul Who wanted eternal light.
JL Maikaho’s manuscript was a finalist in the 2022 Nigerian NewsDirect Chapbook Awards. Her poems and short stories have appeared in Parousia Magazine, Trouvaille Review, Brittle Paper, Kalahari Review, Nantygreens, Eboquills, World Voices Magazine, Nnoko Stories, 50WordStories, Spillwords and elsewhere. She has also been longlisted for the Bill Ward Prize for Emerging Authors and shortlisted for the MAFEELDA Essay Contest. JL is a SprinNG alumna, writes from Gombe, Nigeria and tweets @JLMaikaho.
