RE-LIBERATION.

 

My brother's voice never seized,

He spoke with vigour

Always ready to step on a pythons head.

He never hesitated,

Always spoke of liberation

And I used to tell him, "we are liberated".

His voice trembled,

"He has lost his spark of madness",I thought.

He never had riffle phobia.

My brother's voice was heard

Beyond our clan's boundaries.

He spoke of re-liberation like he had an army.

His vigorous "hallucinations"

Made him victim of the dictator,

My brother lives in custody.

The echoes of his voice created Timbre,

It stood against dictatorship,

It never declined being a reactionist.

My other brother in decorated pips

Tortured my brother,

He stank like wet metal.

He always sweated blood,

Blood beads rolling down his face.

Supervisors hit him on the head.

My brother froze,never sniffed again,

His still body lay like a legend to a few.

Many Poets penned down his bravery.

 Liberation Day?

What is liberation day?

Was the death of my brother liberation?

The stupidity of making 26th January a holiday hurts me.

My brother lying cold is all because of dictatorship.

Why fool Ugandans?

Scrap it and call Melancholy Day . 

 © _George William Ochago._ 

(26-01-2020,Power of the Pen Collection).

 *Tired Poet*  .