Gathered in mocking ululation
They speak of me, my works
They think of me, my life
Now that I’ve lost illumination
See them, people
No shame no dimples
Singing my praise to the heavens
Uninvited mourners of my memory
Now that I lay in the temple
Shall I rouse fiery Sango
From his slumbers of years ago
To help me strike, one by one
Their vaunted and tainted egos
And give their praise one deadly blow
Shall I pray Amadioha’s breath
To expose the guilty wreath
Of those who killed my dream
Mocked my chequered philosophy
And now will not let me rest beneath
I shall, their ignorance forgive
Let them their hollow lives live
I have run my race, I’m gone
Their mottled mettle shall meet
Their likes before the grave.
Written by: Jonathan Ezeanochie
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
