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African Association of Madison, Inc.

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From:
Ademola Iyi-eweka <[log in to unmask]>
Date:
Sun, 21 Oct 2001 22:29:22 -0500
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This poem is dedicated to the victims of Sep 11 and the current military
campaign in Afghanistan.

                                      DEAD PLACE

Burning fires from the sky
in the midst of a stirring dawn,
at the New Yorker's structural pride.
The iron birds propelled by men
of political struggle and anger.
Religion and politics tied,
with an umbilical cord.
Dead Place.

The great burning of
metal, bones, boxes
tables, clothes, money.
Forced painful cremation.
About six thousand groans silenced.
The Star song stopped momentarily,
in the Place of the Gods
Dead Place.

It is the time of the Great Burning,
when fire fell out of the sky.
It fell on the towers of the gods.
It came from the People of the Hills.
It left marks and stains on the ruins.
" Do not go East, " they say.
They hide in caves and hills.
There is the large bitter water to cross.
Dead Place


Restless, restless is the pulse of the giant city.
The place of burrowed tunnels,
and the big tall buildings.
Fire fighters, policemen, emergency squad,
legal or illegal aliens
some eighty countries,
got enveloped in smoke and dust.
Dead Place.

As the soldiers' station is attacked,
an iron bird crashes in a corn field.
" Why are the birds burning and falling from the sky? "
" Islamic hijackers and terrorists."
" Why do they hate us so much? "
" Palestine and Holy land. "
Kids' questions and adult answers.
Dead Place.

The nation of God who could pull
 the moon from the sky,
watched with bewilderment,
as the towers of the gods tumbled down,
entombing the innocents.
" Perpetrators wanted dead or alive."
Dead Place.

Bomb. Thousands of bomb and rockets
rain in Afghanistan into the caves and hills,
as jets vomited their deadly cargoes.
Like the burning fires from the sky,
it is the Great burning all over again.
The People of the Hills
run about like ants in the streets
It is a deadly circle
Dead Place.


Ademola Iyi-Eweka

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