The Broken By Mark A. C. Ogbodo Poem by Mark A. C. Ogbodo

THE BROKEN
By Mark A. C. Ogbodo
In my quest of wiping the faces of the dejected, I explored the North, South, East and West: the encounter left a soul broken from broken souls encountered.
The journey was set for. All around me came the cries of the dejected. Everyone crying for and needing help despirately and concurrently. Triaging was of no help, for there were the ones needing help urgent attention at the North, South, West and East simultaneously. I called for help, but my call fell on deaf ears for no one wanted to help the the needy. I was left alone to attend to the countless number. Thus, I needed to act fast and alone.

Quickly, I ran to the north, and what I saw shocked me to the marrows; the destitutes crying, whole stretches of land were laid wasted and depopulated, human beings like myself living in most deplorable conditions.... and a 12 year old boy ran into my arms in tears. At 12, he was already a broken soul. What a pity!

At the South, I saw the motherless being maltreated by their stepmothers. The motherless being deserted by their own fathers, all being instigated by these same stepmothers, for the fear of them turning out to be greater than their own children. Also, I heard the cries of widows being maltreated by her the very in-laws of hers she fought for when her hero was alive... What a world.

At the West, I met prisoners who were imprisoned for things they knew nothing about. One was imprisoned because he took to rubbery all because he was a victim of circumstances: he was brought up in an orphange home after he was dumped by the road ride at the age of 3-day by his mother. At age 14 years, he was abducted by a man who died shortly living the little boy helpless again at 15 years. He took to rubbery, but unintentionally, and was cought and imprisoned... Who is to be blamed.

At this juncture, the Religious would offer relieve, for my heart was heavy. But I met the worst. I saw a priest who was poisoned to death by a fellow priest simply because he was considerd the most likely condidate for the post of the next Bishop of the diocese. 'Ah! Ah! Ah! The only thing I like about our Christianity is our CHRIST' I cried out aloud... 'Indeed, I must be gentle as a dove, but wise as a serpent'.


At the cemetry, I heard the cries of innocent souls who were victims of bomb blasts, wars etc. The cries of people who were silently killed, people who had no one to protect or save them.

The politician can help! I said to myself. Straight away, I went to one. All efforts to reach him were to no avail as his security men prevented me. But I was determined. I walked a stone's throw and waited for him. Lo and behold, 10 hours later he was on his way out and I stood right at the middle of the road. Eventually, I got to him and after the formal rites, I asked him why he showed no care for his people perishing, and he was their leader? Speechless, he stood. 'my friend! ' He said. 'I lost my wife and two children to bomb blast; the leaders then couldnt protect them. My dad had so many wives and 27 of us... He could not pay my school fees as he spent his money marrying more wives. I dropped out of school in Jss1. No one supported me. My very own were the major obstacles on my path. I made myself what I am today. Out of nothing, I created something. I was also a victim of circumstances'... and he burst into tears...'Let the people fight for themselves', he concluded.

I was overwhelmed with pains, for the pain I could bear was the cumulative of everyone's pains. I ran to the altar of GOD and lay faced down, speechless for a while, and in tears. Then I spoke up 'my GOD! my GOD! ! I have come before you broken, because your people are broken.'