Too Late To Cry
The wind of the Nigerian soul is wayward,
Birthing charlatans, and mercurial thieves,
That neither bode well for you and me, and our tomorrow
They never ponder into the future,
But hustle to outrun a plan that has yet to conceive
They are ‘neither visionaries, nor utopian dreamers,’
But unwavering preachers of extravagance, and ‘the expense of being poor’
The resulting thunder strikes,
Breaking protests of freedom,
and the overrun of political ‘long-throats’ with their timeless ‘change.’
The Power Elite is for the nonce, disenfranchised,
Until He, who suddenly thinks his shine has come, dies.
The poison, dripping from his drunken lips, dries.
The wind of the Nigerian soul is solid gold,
It cannot be mined with absolute integrity or common sense,
But a conniving of a new ostentation,
Sprawling from cathedrals of assorted analytics, and serial media advertising
The wind of the Nigerian soul,
Is a lure to dance, and jive, till death!
Who is the future to question our mature degeneration?
ABOUT THE POEM
Nigeria’s leadership is widely perceived as one that’s motivated by greed and corruption, and is never trusted. Be it leadership at political, social or religious levels, none can be trusted any longer. Unfortunately, this crop of persons strives to justify their love of the people. But for the masses, these leaders are the heart of the country’s challenges or decay. This poem examines the peculiar leadership identified here as the Nigerian soul, and its corrupting influence.
Adeiza Atureta currently lives in Abuja, Nigeria’s capital city. His poems have appeared in Camouflage: Best of Contemporary Writing from Nigeria; Black Communion: Poems of The New African Poets; A Feast For The Mind; Temptation, and Shout It Out! Poems Against Domestic Violence. He has also published a short story in Write For Light: A Collection of True Stories and Poems about Finding Light in the Darkness. He is a member of Nigerian Institute of Public Relations.