I spend my time alone
Of someone special.
We gaze into each other’s eyes
The feelings we share
Are too much for words.
I lie in my room
Tears dripping down
I have lost a loved one.
I sit at the far end
Of a noisy moving bus
Unaware of the clatter.
I miss the pleasant days
Cut short in their prime.
JOURNEY TO THE ROCK
Remember the brave hearts
Those schooled young men and women
Strapped in brown boots and the other emblems
That remind us of their ongoing rite of passage.
From sunup to sundown
These patriotic hearts
Dampened by the terror of bomb blasts
And daunted by stretching queues;
Courted ballots, ink and registers;
As they pressed on
Fulfilling their extraordinary national duty.
Even with the lingering fear gripping them
From hardworking school days;
The fear of long treks on job-search missions
The fear of breeding hungry children
The fear of roadside deaths
The fear of fear;
They decided to perform;
To believe and to hope
That this time,
The ballot will speak in lieu of naira notes,
Freewill will be aired not coercion by the gun;
That this time
We all shall not a legion drops of water
That will never wash a leopard’s spots away;
That this time,
We will be angry acid that corrodes with mad rage
A nation’s callous metallicity that built up slowly.
Remember the female heroes!
The pregnant ones
That set out at dawn to give you
their own share of power;
That bore the sun’s wrath with patience
As the unborn protested
Kicking and squirming on the inside
Berating their custodians
For inflicting pain even before touchdown…
And please remember those very special heroes!
Who with the pain and weight of the unborn
Sat in the sun till labour pains attacked
Remember the courageous others
That joined hands to bring the babies to earth
Right there at the polling unit!
Could you forget the aged?
Remember their crutches and walking sticks
Their frail legs, dim eyes and trembling fingers
That determined to give you power
The right way-through the ballot
In the hope of reincarnating yesteryear’s joys.
We have put our drops of acid before you
In a big big pot called THE PRESIDENCY
We have bequeathed you our power-all we have left
Will you empty it on us,
And give us another sweet dose of pain?
Or will you splash it on our common enemies
And justify the release of our power?
Don’t answer with your words
We are now deaf
Our eyes and what they see are now
the only approved gateway for belief.