PRESCRIPTION
The fire which sizzled the haze of myth, burns the
legend
Burns the prided palm: which taps the wine of
tradition
The enemy of our history.
The fire which carpeted this land, on the leasing of her
freehold
Destroys the nursing womb: which breeds her
young
A land faded from the past.
The bullet which shattered the range of her long history
Triggers the unholy noise: which tries her prop of
wisdom
She clowns fouling her gratitude.
And the airs of hope frequent hang on to the tinkle
Call calms and breaks, and her appetites remember
Once she fed on sour palm.
The palm which is the emblem is gentle and kinder,
not the kernels
Fierce and tense: and hopes become a burden
By the wine you taste in the pub.
Dan Awodoye
EDITOR’S NOTE
Source: Archiving (Nigeria Magazine, Sunday, March 1, 1970).