The Jet And Ivory Poem by Felix Emeka George

I have seen two in one
in a bind,
With striped colours like zebra.
Unique, as no two are exactly alike.
The black and white
Seem odd in worlds.
With the creator's breath
on new born foal.
In the beginning,
Who knows the real colour?
But as time warmed and cooled,
appearance becomes as appealing
as the black and white on a zebra.

While you are hewing curse and scorn
at each other in loose laughter,
And in gains hindered,
In blood spilled,
It is not a deal as friends,
but hatred of enemies
because you are jet or ivory.

These sighs are not my breathe or passion?
But stream of red tears
Shedding from my eyes
While the ivory and jet have
no more soul in their organ frame,
for their hands and legs are cut off.
Brains are schooled lies
judges without judgment.
Of the breast ceased of milk
Of affections and passions.

For the freedom of the state or throne,
the injustice by Hitler to impeach
We went together to the death fields with our weapons,
Squattering on the grasses
And speaking through lightning and thunder.
You and I in frenzied cries of death-mark
Over the jet and ivory,
Still some stand in prejudice.

The mosquitoes struck hard on us
We endured storms
raining down on decaying bodies
that lay dead of malaria that came and went.
We still smile, laugh and …
Can we live like the body of zebra?
And forget the colour of zebra