Dawn that Friday,
did Ogene not invite Kakaki and Shekere
to the village square
where a three-eyed kola we share
and a broom sticks oath we swear
iseee..... Amin..... aseeee... did we not all cheer?
come when Abel dis-brother Cane,
are our tongues still not sour of the tale?
Drums of explosions, songs of war....
the sore still our frail widows wail,
the fall of husbands, sons and more.
Is the scare still not on papas' faces
in their graves,
has time washed our history pages
in the rains,
Those kwashiorkor-belly babies
that watch scavengers feast on Mamas' carcass
do they not visit us at night again
the blood sand and pain ?
Remember your birth blood festivity
before your half yellow sun that shun
was tuck back in her green white sky.
now Ada is carrying Adamu's son
Abiku! hear your weary mother cry.
Last night she wept her diseased
the burnt flesh sacrifice - Lafia dole North-east
for you and all to know peace,
Die! let's now be at ease
and there be a country.
