The Long Shadows Poem by Tony Adah

The evening gave a dinner of skimpy gruel
To those whose tummies have been glued
To the spinal pole
And the hearts in their hands are simply no meals
But lumps of frightful signs
Here or there bombs are meals
With shrapnel of human bones
The guerrilla warfarers like the taste
Of the brimming tears and a keg of crimson blood
And the long shadows are the shadows of death
Where laughter had to wait
For the funeral of those massacred.