Let my daughters go! Boko Haram, free the children!
Why steal them, heinously kill all that makes them human, then sell them like stolen yams from your brothers garden? What God will hear you pray? Abductions, atrocity, terror swells a false seduction of satanic expansion of power; too many innocent fell by mortar fire, too many young flower girls shattered by life sentence of slavery. What justification takes center stage to present God with impassioned reason?
You see, they say, every day is for the thief but one day is for the owner. In your forbidden forest, the falling tree is heard at least by henchmen, at most scurrying squirrels. Far away as if in face to face with evil, the cut down of our daughter's souls, an emotional toll too painful, is heard by a world stirred by quakes of its horror. God of heaven, earth, infinity, may corrective light shine majestically upon heart of the nation of Nigeria, once called Africa's Show Case of Democracy. Not only she, but many and any country battles some degree of iniquity that keeps us collectively praying.
From human trafficking, race and gender bias abuse, drug war-lords, human assault on nature, weapons race for war and all caught in webs of greed and dogmatic hate and more, the world embraces love to harness God's renewable power to creatively make a difference. May Nigeria's near 300 young school girls and the newly kidnapped eight and 11, be spared further reign of terror, their captors relax by light of mercy's miracle, by God pray peace be still. Captors, stream down pain contorted barely baby faces.
Hear their weak wrenching plea, ''please, please, release me to reunite with my grief stricken family;'' only a mother knows how to hold her crying child. Feel the gourd your daughters forcibly swallow from their silent forest screams heard in nightmares of all races. like the mother who bore you, the distant earth pounding prayer drums labor for our children in the transformative hour.
Have mercy on our daughters, Mr. President, we each beseech your humanity; bring our children back, so moaning homes will mourn no more and a path to new world faith converts man's inhumanity to humanity. Militant leaders, in the glow of youth's skin, a mirror confirms you as a father, not their mate or playmate, not jailer, tormentor, not their fate or enrichment decider, they are not political or religious pawn and fodder; by God you are issued to be father raising pride in the motherland.
As the falling forest tree, God speaks appeal to release their young girls. Open your hears, lament the torment inflicted in their grasping cringing cries as though they were your own and by God obey His will for humans being human on this worldwide Mother's Day. Bring back our daughters healthy, safe and God give grace to be sound!
Constance Okwumabua is a Jamestown resident.