They hang on top of tall trees
…like shadows in the dark
Their noses on radar
…searching for who and or what will fall
In order to swoop down for feasts
They are the best friends of death
They are one of the biggest benefactories of death
They are part of the bigger mystery of death
For they gain the remains of our losses
And puff at the protectiveness of our beloveds
…in their cravings
How they never tell the marked
Because they oh so know!
Isn’t death their bosom friend?
How they never point at undertakers aiming for the strong
Who looks on as a mad myth plucks unripe souls?
How they never point in the direction of our doom
…flame my temperament!
Shouldn’t warriors be warned to fight fair
…on a soldiering battle ground?
And they act like friends of the Almighty
A good thing they too turn carcasses
I wonder who or what preys on their remains!
I guess I should blame not a victim
…of an enemy
Living a day as if the day’s say is the only left
…surely will be best
As the rest is left to chance
Weird times torment minds
Forcing minds to cast blames
…on innocent and toothless hunters
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 9, 2020