He was cradled in violence
nursed in violence
hailed in violence
and buried in violence.
In violence we know him
In violence we praise him
In violence we mourn him
In violence we uphold him
Vibrant fighter of erudition,
will ASUU say ‘my spine is gone?’
The weak tread in breeze.
The strong prevail in tempest.
Iyayi is gone,
the man tempest tossed.
He has gone the way mourners mourn,
the gloomy dale of death
where moaners moan
and loners roam alone.
Death is crass
death is callous
death is never lethargic to kill.
Only the miscreants will sigh
for the wishful relief of your grip,
the serpents and leopards in commiseration.
It takes wisdom to live
but struggle to survive.
Help me greet the loners of your kind
the voices who died telling truth
but truth never told to the world.
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