Saw a bird flew from no man's land
to a pastureland.
It cooed alone in a lawn
making its nest for the night rest

It flew to the lawn
to be alone
till the troubles of the world is gone
and peace return.

A problem not fought
it thought
is no trouble at all
but peace forestall.

Little did it know,
problems flow
on the wings of wind
to be taken in by living-kind.

It is skin we wear,
a parcel that is shared,
a knot we must untie,
and a routine till we die.

Oh! Little bird,
let it sink into your sleeping mind.
make back to thy motherland
for greater problems are pastureland.

So it is everywhere.
All that we need is just to bear.
The problem isn't to break us
but to make us.


©CHUKWU OKWUDILI ABEL
KLASIQUE UNCLE.