We will swallow hard this spit hanging in
our throats for the love of our eloping country.
We will sound proof our ears before the
immediate suffering of our honest stomachs.
These are our tracks decorated by thorns
and thorns of hurt and problematic troubles.
this was the vow made in the public ears never
to allow our land tear out again
those bleeding curfew of midnight howls.
Now, mercies at hand, love divided these lines
that father carved in part of protecting fate.
Look at the bruises on our faces weeping,
look at what the sun has done to us,
listen to the happy noise made by our
stomachs under the harsh cruel sun.
This is the hatred caused by those we looked
in their eyes yesterday and saw fear and love.
These are the substances that home our
regional state of mind but they failed us!
If they failed us in the young day who knows
what the old night will do with our broken spirit?
No one knows the consequences here.
Are we doomed in the morning masses?
Are we really going to see the changes promised?
When will one Naira become one dollar?
When will the School children start collecting the
meals promised before the election?
When will the economy wear a new look?
Where are we going from here, home?
Who is the black cat in Aso rock, the masses?
Is the powerhouse still working because
our streets are in pain of darkness ?
What problem is craving it hands on us?
If breathing of my last wills stand there,
If professionally we failed heaven again.
then Mass bury we be for all the leaders.
we will gather all and bury them to ashes
because they are the Prime Ministers of our weakness dangling in the air for all to see.
This is our passion planted up there on trees,
our homes are hurting the fears that govern us,
through this lane we will walk diligently to this
that our country will stand firm and tall through you.
©John Chizoba Vincent

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