Friday, 14 February 2014

The gods were sleeping

We listened to the hooting owl,

Declaring death upon our house.
Where were the gods of our land
When our loved ones were struck?
Are their ears so deaf, they can’t hear
The supplications of the faithful ones?
Are their eyes so blind they can’t see,
The malicious ploys of the evil one?

The great iroko tree has fallen
To the malicious axe of the evil one,
Scattering our natural habitation
Like headless chicken we fret,
Scampering in all directions
We have fallen apart with no discernible order

Who will pick our broken bones?

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