Like a young maiden,
Full of life,
Radiating all infant fullness!
At infancy, she blossomed –
Haa! Young Maiden, full of innocence,
Three coloured ambiguity n’standing.
Maidens all bright,
Yet still young, beautiful,
Ever blossoming in spite.
Handsome suitors, all encircled her
Her riches ensnare ‘em.
Her influence, size, a great desire
Men too, were men
Suitors with means
Life was full, expectations high
Then the missteps,
Then circle full of motions, still no movement!
Kids born, yet no marriage,
Wealth flaunting, yet no home,
Forlorn hope all’ver
Maiden now abused, raped,
Inheritance looted, resources converted,
Hope dashed, future gloomy
Handsome suitors all disappeared,
Offspring all look different ways
Some gallivanted, blabbing arrogantly
Some took far too much local gin
Looted wealth now flaunts in the streets,
New status, new life,
Virginity thrown away,
Innocence off the plane,
Innocence Passed by; new life;
New taste acquired!
One faltering step after other
All seem to move helter-skelter.
No clear direction, blurred vision all o’ver,
Still the Maiden faltered on; stumbles on and on
One missteps too many
She covered one false step with another
From the chaos, emerges a New Home
A suitor had finally built one,
A head forcefully installed,
Soon another round of chaos took o’er
Anomie now ruled the house,
All looking for the beautiful maiden
Violators besiege her, left, right, centre
No counselling voice
No one dare to be different
In hordes, they faltered
In hordes, we lament
In hordes, we lament our collective woes,
Torrential denunciations of signs of time
Full of sorrows and hard pass
Memories of ages past
Full of milk and honey
Bounteous harvest,
Plenteous in droves
All labour engaged
The past laden in gold, pure gold
In refrain, we congregate, we massed,
Together the old, young: men, women
Slack in resolute, resolve
But firm in disarray
Go, push, and lead to nowhere
Shepherds, all, all lead voices
Heads, all must
Listens, not, no one, none
Just cacophonies,
Hullabaloos, all at once
In refrain, we merry around
Pot bellies, flowing babanrigas with caps of many colours
Long, tall, bended, oblong, dog, south, north, all
Lots to eat, drink
Only at merriment times
With angry and hungry souls staring not too far
Drawn faces, forlorn looks
Despondent souls
Massed a distance outside merry venues
Yet we make merry, all day
In refrain, we salute power
Power of emptiness
Of vanity
Gotten with tears and blood
Of innocent souls
But are dawn the bowels of the Mothers’ earth
Six feet down, lonely,
Lay stoned, darkened with spilled blood,
All now forgotten
Heroes of our daily toil
Cryptograms of our collective till
The man in the common sights
In refrain, we celebrate
Like the ritualists we wildly celebrate
Rolls out the antique drums
Sings the Labyrinths oddly too early
Year in, year out
Failures of heroes of ages past
Heroes of lost ideals and ideas
Of lost virginity, innocence
Yet we disdain the very purity
Of our collective psyches
In refrain, we watch in helpless awe
As homes, offices rap confusion
Young souls, all idle
All lost in the cacophonies
All wait on hope,
E go better, e go better refrain
No bed to rest battered heads at stillness of nights
Dusk fades to dawn
They lumped together
In nothing they gaze,
In nothing, they aspire
Leaders of tomorrow
Destitute of today
Yet we celebrate, we mourn, all in refrain
The spillage of our commonwealth till
The sweat and blood of our heroes past,
Lost virginity of our choice maidens
Our mothers honour bereft, dignity violated
Heritage god desecrated
Future mortgaged, destroyed
We mourn on and on,
Yet no end in celebrations
With the traducers in tow
The very oppressors on stage
Their crowd come in various shapes and sizes,
All to sing, to dance, to make merry
Merry of conquest of our national purse
The common till, now in few pockets
Yet we celebrate, we refuse to mourn
Afolayan Adebiyi writes from Lagos, Nigeria
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