The quiet is defeaning
It bursts your eardrums
Eery and foreboding

Who will make the first move?
Who will change sides?
What is really happening?

History, like a confused child
Keeps coming back home
Looking for its parents

History, like a boomerang
Circles and circles the raised hand
Waiting for peace and rest.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

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