I must love my love
For love is lost
I must love my shield
For the arrow is shot
Like a sick-baby I lay
And know no joy nor sorrow
But is comforted
When depression, humiliation, praise and
Torment strike
I call on you as though divine
Because you know the cure
As mother to a half-feed child
We are left to the hoarse wind
But must I turn to be carried away
Like a frightened chick by a hawk
Or must I cling to my shield
To share my sorrow and happiness
For my love is blessed.
Uguoyoke Cosmas Sonny
EDITOR’S NOTE
Originally published in Citizen on 17 May 1993, p. 42. This diplomatic transcription preserves the wording and lineation visible in the archived page.