African people protesting

When you got married,
your name was anglicized on a bed of two lovers.
But, long before, your hollow flesh,
In between your thighs had nurtured the fluid of a man who raped you but became my father.
Yet, I loved you.

Then, balloons littered the streets of lagoon on your birthday.
Engines whistling and legs in matching, laughing lips pictured on all dallies...
In celebration of the robbed damsel.
Raising our colors high up high, with claque consumes us,
seeing them to the foot of our shores.
To begin our journey.

Dream slashed.
Men of tough clothes reign our mortal souls.
Another khaki toppling another khaki.
A civil reign is promised.
Hope slashed.
A day in June.
Hope slashed.
This is not a marriage nor a birth prayed for.

Then, it became a marriage of inconvenience of bloodsheds, genocide-pogrom.
The red earth is agonized.
Legs scuttling towards East,
bearing new names on blood clot lips.
The cartridges of the green-white nation tattooing bellies.
One mother? Children of diversity.

Lord help thy sons and daughters.
As we look on a bright side of
a new millennium...
We repulse the drum of change
when we remember the messiahs
& their chaotic messes.

The different tongues craving their individualities.
The centre cannot hold,
but we hope,
and is hope still a thing with feathers?

I'm a writer, journalist and teacher. I'm amongst the selected and exhibited artists for VIOREMEN, NLACC against irregular migration, Abuja 2020; a contributory poet for “84 Delicious Bottles of Wine for Wole Soyinka”; longlisted for Libretto magazine Chapbook Publication, 2020, and has other publications elsewhere. I'm a lover of arts, travel and a culture enthusiast.

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