I Am 47 But Still In Tears

 

I used to have a small face
Yet, intensely pretty
From the green coast of Lagos
To the dry desert of Sokoto
From the Deltas of Yenegua
To the Chad basin in Maidugri
That was when you used to hail me
When you stood in brotherhood
Not withstanding your mother tongue

 

My face was still pretty
Sweet if you like
Like a tiny village
In the hot suns of the summer
That was before the oil boom
And "the wild wild west"
I used to shine
With the eyes of the fairest powder blue
That on occasion would light up
With quick fire of delight
And became a full shining color

 

From the last two decades
I have become a frail fellow
Now,
I am meticulously unkempt
With battered shoes
And faded attire
Money bags in the name of law makers
Ethnic clashes due to struggles for land
Religious crisis
And poverty ridden masses

 

This is me your Nigeria
With my disheveled hair
And wild roving eyes

Refineries that has failed to refine our crude

Schools that are now producing half baked graduates
I now have the impression of someone
On the verge of losing a long
Drawn battle with insanity

 

Now,
I am crying
Weeping
I am in tears
I need help
I need peace
I need you
Or don’t you think so?