I hear the thump thump sounds of  strange drums.

Faint sounds but getting louder with each new beat.

These are no drums I knew.

Not the sounds of the long drums accompanying a bridal party.

Or the gangan celebrating a chieftaincy.

It is not the ikpa, for no one died. No one that important anyways.

These are neither happy nor sad sounds.

Just of fear, a foreboding , a warning.

Of a river of blood about to flow and of voices on the brink of a wail.

Of vultures, circling, patient, waiting

Like guests at a wedding about to feast.

These are like no beats that I knew.

These new drums are the drums of war.