These are times for the history books, and Chika Obi paints the dystopian scenario we find ourselves in. Carve some time out of your afternoon to read these gracefully put poems.
The tussles and diverse show of nuclear might,
Inventions, economic boom,
Espionage turning into sabotage,
Trade wars with the sanctions, provocations and airstrikes,
All trending for a while,
The media awash with news and tip-offs,
The powerbrokers smiling and plotting their game,
With the victims berating, enduring and planning,
The universe was caught in the frenzy,
Then suddenly struck the unknown.
A condition, strange and lethal,
Bringing all to an unplanned halt.
A new turn, the reportage from the media took,
As gradually, every nook and cranny felt the sting.
Suspended now are the political games and permutations,
Unplanned and unconscious,
No mention of nuclear wars, no tussles or sanctions,
No show of might,
The economy began choking and speedily crashing,
Everyone now on their toes.
Remedy is now all that matters,
But to get it,
Now a tedious journey of a million miles.
Only a few manage to walk through the reality,
With the vast majority sliding down the drain.
Daily the victims die in their numbers,
With one or two being able to pull through.
No folk, economy or territory is spared,
Today, no super power to run to,
A challenge so strange to humanity,
At least within a few past centuries.
Initially reclined within the corridors of our imagination,
Soon a reality it became,
Very busy streets now as lonely as the cemeteries,
Quietness soon became the loudest sound made,
By folks, within the confines of their homes.
The last time were outside,
We simply knocked elbows,
No one dared shake hands.
As tick tick went the tiny hands of the clock,
Through the windows we peeped,
Paying no attention to the clapping trees and chirping birds,
The humming breeze and whistling pines,
Instead, we threw our gazes outside,
Past the colored pavements and street light,
The beautifully tendered flowers and all we could see,
Just to have a feel of what the world outside still looked like.
As the rabbit packs up hay
Quickly at the rising of the sun,
A month’s purchase, we made in a day.
Home stores all stacked up,
Empty and deserted,
Now are the grocery stores.
Gradually as we approach our wit’s end,
We dream of the doomsday, whilst praying for a better day.