9ja, my 9ja
you’re dear to me
as a homeland
but I know you’ll
not be truly mine
until Justice is done.
Are you still that country
my proud forebears fought
vehemently for at Independence?
Sang at dinner tables, in Town halls,
that you’ll cultivate Evenhandedness
for all – East and West, North and South?
“Take it or leave it, we’re one.”
We’ve convinced ourselves but
we keep at deceit – a fulfilling fruitful union.
All I see is a country where I’m perceived
as an outcast – a conquered tribe,
Being Ibo is not Nigerian anymore
This’ now the buzz of a new nation
snatch’d by a slick n’ treacherous cabal.
Every drop of blood in me
that once held patriotism
now renounces you, broadcasts cynicism.
Does it take a seer to know
that all the weight of your hate
now sits a dead weight on your conscience?
Am I still your cherish’d child –
a son worth callin’
this Green-White emblem his own?
Should my allegiance be to
that country that once was!?
…that land of the Rising Sun.
Copyright © 2019. SpilledWoords. All rights reserved.
Lad! Remember that no man ought to forgeta child’s tender youth is like tempering of waxapt to receive form – discipline before affectionmix threats with a fair look, manner with wit. A potter fashions his lay when it’s softa sparrow taught to come when younghot iron by a hammer’s stroke begets formand keeps it forever […]
4 It was the stuff of a satire, were it not painfully true. Nnenne sat silently on a black-spotted Ankara patterned sofa surrounded by chattering friends and coworkers. She and a handful of friends at Lolo’s urging – her childhood friend and workmate, had gathered at her residence to celebrate a hard-fought promotion greeted with […]