And a head never to stoop by a table to ink down
Thoughts, experience and age long folk wisdom
But to oblivion or Zombiepolis, whichever way you go
The last flash of thought across your mind I can easily imagine:
No longer at ease with the nation you left behind
For the symbol of our unity and social cooperation:
The anthill of the savannah
Has been torn to shreds
By the foreign religions
Cardinal theme in your intellectual endeavours.
When a man of the people
Turns a man of his pocket
We watch with awe, your prophecy coming in earnest.
No beautiful sunset in Biafra again
Not to any Biafran venturing out to the north
All is pitch black
Death, sorrow, insecurity
All thick beyond what arrow of God can penetrate
Perhaps there was a country
Which is no more
Just like YOU.