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It’s November again!
Feel these winds blow, see these leaves falling,
No, it’s not Harmattan blowing.
It’s Ken coffin calling from our coughing body frames.
It’s that month again, when we count our losses,
Name them one by one! Our hopes they hung on a line,
And they dried them like rags in the sun, one by one!
Yes, yes Ken Saro Wiwa!
Since that day we’ve roamed in this wilderness.
For the red sea has swallowed the hand that ought to divide it!
See the marks on our bodies, they bear us witness!
It’s November again,
That time when we can no longer try to eat our shame,
When it became clear that the master cook had lost her spice,
For all faces that have eyes can see that we’re in chains!
It’s November again…
meet the poet: Wisdom Kanyone
