When MKO Abiola was lowered into the earth,his dreams a shroud,his cask weighing tons, they murmured about the junta, and the General,
And the tea, and June 12 ghouls.
And Dele Giwa’s murderers contest seats, pass anti-assassination bills, fund phoney NGOs……while impotent whispers caress the air,
Of cockroaches, cupboards and midnight massacres.
Kudirat Abiola’s shadow, fading with the coming of dawn, a black dawn, does anyone ask, does anyone see as it wanders, as it hovers, denied just-rest?
What of the millions of people, selling clothes at bend-down-and picks, the tired and defeated gone-to-soldiers with June 12 war wounds which never heal…. tell me about the molested bundle of joys, the sunshine on their faces flickering like broken candles tipping in a storm, like creaking chairs eaten by hidden termites. Ask me who the winners are, who the losers are… the lean kines in pharaoh’s dream eyeing the obese bulls for long,too long… ask me when the cheering will turn to the howling of a lynch mob,when the sacred bulls will lose their talismans and jinx each other and vetoed dream-robbers will hang in marketplaces…..
Ask me about the miracle men and women, leeches from heaven, the God-sent mass murderers in the north, advocating a return to stone age.
Ask me about change.