In my lifetime
I may not see you
become that I earnestly wish.
In their opinion
we were monkeys livin’ on tress
before they came and made us men.
We’re a conquered nation –
the wandering Jews of Africa, but
in my viewpoint – I‘m the hope of Africa.
As time awaits your second birth
my heart swells with pride –
I am the son of the rising sun.
I am, not because some treasure seekers gave
me that identity, I was before Frederick Lugard
drank from my river at Imo. I am Igbo.
Copyright © Ugo Nkwoala | Spilledwoords.org | 2020
Category: Nature, Love & Poetry, Politics & Social normsTags: Africa, Biafra, colonialism, ethnic pride, Frederick Lugard, Igbo, Igbo Nation, Imo River, Jews-of-Africa, national identity, Patriotism, self-esteem, The Biafra Story
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 […]
© Ugo Nkwoala |Spilledwoords.org | 2020