WHERE ARE THEY?
WHERE ARE THEY?
(The python dance ballyhoo)
Where are they?
Where are the voices that the
globe deifies?
Have they lost their tones?
Can’t they speak now and quench
this fire?
What of him that has read all the
books on earth
Even the ones written by the gods;
Can’t he demonstrate the glory of
his white hairs?
Or has he lost confidence in his
quill?
But I know it isn’t possible.
What of that handsome man blessed
with oratory echelon?
From where our foods are produced
in baskets;
The sound of his bucal cavity
used to resurrect the dead
So can’t he echo his voice again
And resurrect this dying national
peace?
From the area the sun rises
regularly
The road is forced to drink the
blood of her sons
Plus tears of the unlucky that
puncture her eyes
And you tell me that things haven’t
fallen apart?
Please let Achebe exhume himself,
and defend his book now.
This is not the time to say “Not
my business”
Rather a time to say “It is my
business”
Since humans are not rams
Why using them for this unclean
sacrifice?
I know my voice won't be heard
now
But after completing my centenary
here
Achebe will thank me for at least
talking
And Okadigbo will welcome me for
not corrupting my pen
‘For a Poet tells no lies’.
Please let those that know the
way to that most beautiful village
Where the rock welcomes her
visitors
Tell the Chief Shepherd
That his living sheep are
sleepless
And order the mighty python to
withdraw her dancing steps.
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