My Room's Wall

D.M. Aderibigbe

when my grandmother shouts 
with husk of cashew in corners 
of her mouth, I shift

my bed closer to heaven. I see
God's face every morning.
On the wall of my room, 

Damascus crumbles. 
Morsy loses his tongue 
into the cannons of the army

Egypt enriches the Red Sea 
with red water dripping 
out of the dead screams.

A train in Quebec rides 
Over 15 thoughts 
into forgetfulness.

How about the other 35 
voices that go AWOL?
Beirut and Kabul are founded 

on the same day. Do
not ask me to elucidate 
that to you. Ask the geniuses 

who made explosives that have left 
many bodies burning 
righteously, like churches set ablaze 

by opinionated opposites 
of the Christians in Northern sphere 
Of Nigeria - In my backyard. 

My backyard is simmering in the hands 
of Boko Haram. God! This morning 
I come, admonishing you to bless 

me with chronic blindness when I turn 
to the wall of my room.

D.M. Aderibigbe was born in Lagos, Nigeria. He graduates in 2014, with an undergraduate degree in History and Strategic Studies from the University of Lagos. His work appears in Hotel Amerika, Rio Grande Review, and B O D Y. He’s been nominated for the 2014 Best New Poets Anthology.