By Olatidoye Kehinde Jelil
The sun refused to shine
The moon was crying
The cloud formed
The space was dark
The afternoon was like midnight
The atmosphere was tensed
The peace of the land was ceased
The songs of sorrow rented the beaks of birds
The sand was weeping and gnashing
Moving sluggish like a flock of ghosts
”WHAT IS HAPPENING”, asked a confused heart
”No ooo… he is not dead”
”Ku…kun…kun…kun…le is not dead”
Alas, a soul hath been stung!
A soul was martyred by a novice in black uniform
Many a heart was weeping and wailing:
”Iku ti d’oro…(death hath done evil)
”No ooo…he is not dead”
”Kunle Adepeju is not dead”
Indeed, 1971 when a great man’s life was cut
A would be leader of today was sent on exile from the earth
A family’s torch hath been put off
A nation’s pathfinder was misguided into oblivion
A people’s helper wandering in helpless land
In 1971, a soul was banished
to a strange lone city
He is not dead
only away from us
‘cos his legacy still lives
In the midst of us
your name is in monuments for yet unborns
