AN ODE TO THE SON OF THE SOIL: A TRIBUTE TO CHINUA ACHEBE | a poem by Chidera Udochukwu

1) 
There was once a country where half of the yellow sun never sets, 
 Before things fell apart and we became wary of stalking silhouettes,  
 Before the advent of Afro-pop, an African giant held sway in the literary domain, 
 African literature would never remain the same again. 

 2) 
He might be gone but his works have been cast in stone, 
Giving flesh to dry bones and microphones to voices hitherto unknown,  
Passed down like manuals from one generation to the next, 
To keep the Olympian flame burning and standing up for the oppressed, 
 
3) 
At Ahiajoku, we broke the new yams with his spicy oil of proverbs,  
The climax of the lecture was a harvest from the gardens of a great scholar, 
He took the narrow path and walked where even angels feared to tread, 
Never at ease with the costus spectabilis dripped in blood red, 

4) 
A sword is sharp but a stroke of a pen when laced with blood for ink, 
Leaves deeper imprints and wins wars with heads rolling in the flood of mud, 
In his hands, the pen was a gun and words were bullets, a tribute to the South East natives, 
 Never let his message get lost in the art; a crusader in the body of a creative, 

5) 
The African Trinity is a trilogy of tributes to a culture falling on its knees,  
Nobody is at ease with the African culture ravaged by colonial disease, 
We wait earnestly for the arrow of God when bullets have creased our fractured souls, 
Our flesh is weak; our bodies giving way but our hope is forever whole. 
 
6) 
The most valuable Nigerian export is neither gold nor oil, 
It is Chinua Achebe, the true son of the soil, 
This is the poem to celebrate black excellence,  
Salute to the one whose works live on and are epic literary references.