Incarcerated
with my thought,
As
I watched my sleep stagger away,
Struggling
to hold forth,
but
my mind had lost what to say,
my
muse to write, suddenly in fright,
busy
life or busy days, I really doubt,
running
from danger, I always ran home,
but
when home becomes unsafe,
one
question life’s outcome,
the
accidents and incidents we forgave,
But
Nigeria should have been a home….
Night
was quick to give way to morning,
People
will still wake up mourning,
confused
with what would become,
or
who would serve the penance,
Nigeria
should have been their home,
But
their soul cries for vengeance.
Is
it the Ozubulu massacre?
Or
the little boy maimed during the owerri market scatter?
Which
should I say, which do I highlight?
Try
as I may, I still fail to fathom but pray it’ll be alright
But
Nigeria should have been a home….
Imagine
if it’s your mum that grieves,
Or
your family and friends who mourns,
Like
fallen leaves, left to wither,
Or
a lady scorned and terribly bitter,
Things
will never be same as it was,
The
essence of living gradually fading,
With
grief and pains, unending,
And
the uncertainties of a country there was,
Someday
it will end of course,
Then,
there will be no use figuring out what will become,
When
finally, Nigeria becomes a home.
Dedicated to the family and friends who lost loved ones due to
uncertainties of a country, and to those who lost their lives, God knows best...+RIP
