By Gbadamosi S.M.A
Our song is a solemn sorrow
Tumbling from the lips of a learnt language.
Our soup is sour Caucasian dish driven down
Our perching throat by globalization
Spatio-temporal dislocation has derobed, tingled
Us out of the living colours of Kente’s aesthetics
And the loom of Oduduwa sheds nolstagic tears
Of death.
The African Africa, sinking in the swamp of
Acculturation…holds….holds out…
But only forefinger is visible, gropping…
Blinded by death…, for the departing echoes,
Shadows of life-line fading across
The enslaving expanse of the Atlantic.
Adieu! Sweet African Africa,
Shall we meet, again, but not
At the foot of the CROSS of their LORD;.
