I see your dim-eyed children
potbellied with lust.
I see your dumb-doubting fathers
resting shoulders on blaring creeks.

Our hairs were at home, who brought out a comb?

History will tell
when time rang the bell,
and all became hell
for the ruins that have befell

I fight for a liquid strength
flowing in my body to tie my fortune.
Wasn’t this house a forgotten stall?
What stories now turn it to a market square?

Our hairs were resting at home, who brought out a comb?

Our children have learnt to claim a place.
Their hearts know no rest; it’s always changing pace.
I heard a God exists with so much grace,
to cleanse our lands and hearts, leaving no trace.

Black are our hearts, our minds and lands
that contaminated our visitors who have rested their bags.
I fight to redeem my honor and be buried in peace.
I am hungry to fish ,but in which waters?

Our hairs were at home, who brought out a comb?

Niger Delta, helter-skelter!
Help her, Delta! Niger’s shelter.

 

© Rudolph Adidi | 2016

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2 Comments

  1. January 5, 2017 at 9:22 am

    Wow! I see the muse of the delta left her hair with the red cap chief! Thoughtfull piece.

    • Ruddapoet-Reply
      February 4, 2017 at 9:08 am

      Thanks Oracle for blessing the path

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