E. E. Sule
Do you know
Do you know
Your handshake with the sky is a riddle
Alice Walker and I will figure out.
We have been through it:
Cruel religion of take all
Imbecile worship of give all.
Our skies are sterile
heavens crumble in confusion.
And thunder is god of cartel.
They will rise in utter worship
beach and shore, alter and canon.
They will sing of water, of the Wind
and the incredible rot of humanity.
They will sing of age and waste
and the poison in the soil of Niger-delta.
They will invoke selves and ghosts
to a war with no one but selves and ghosts!
The wisdom of the partridge is not mine.
The cage I am locked in
is built by my hands
to make me a prisoner.
Your handshake with the sky is a riddle
Alice Walker and I will figure out.