The Station On Bishop Street Poem by Birgitta Abimbola Heikka

Tepid and tranquil he lays
like a tired toddler in deep slumber
when jolted from his repose
by the vociferous drone of a
sky transporter.

A violent shriek, he utters
as thunderous lightning shook the earth
emitting showers of shrapnel.
The ground below quaked
swallowing the wagon in its wake.

In troubled state, he now reposes
on pieces of metals scattered
like broken kola-nuts
to appease the god of iron
or of war?

The drum of war has rolled down
Bishop Street
The station, its first casualty.