Four Little Children

Dust on their sore feet
Broken glass and maggots
Foraging in the darkness
Owning the night like harlots

Children from the motherless
Clothed in sand and abjection
Watered in a tsunami of odours
Comforted only by death’s rejection

They came around to ours at day
We fed them with dregs and dross
For we ourselves, we had little
But serendipity was with us

I saw them as I returned from school
Chuckling in their half-nakedness
The youngest had scars on her back
Evidence of their father’s wickedness

I gave her a pack of biscuits
Hoping to ease the pain
I was marveled by their cheeriness
But I’ll never see those four kids again
Tomi Olugbemi


9 thoughts on “Four Little Children

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