Whenever I think about this race,

It just must land me in a maze,

For we dwell in hope and sorrow;

We wail to bud and mourn to grow

 

Fortune once picked on the fields,

And, wealth profits our noble deeds,

Now, in the pool of Black gold:

We are all at a crossroad

 

On a voyage Life has compelled us to sail

Fathers and sons becoming frail,

Honour defying our brains,

As barns lacking grains

 

Hate tears all the people apart,

And we detest a contrite heart;

Nature endows our Land with oil,

But, we allow it to kill our conscience and defies our soil

 

Elders aging in anger,

Infants nurtured in hunger

Age beautify our daughters,

Giving us traumatizing mothers

 

Our leaders sell us a belief,

To always smile in grief;

They propel us for lofty height,

And also forbid us the right

 

If taskmasters incur a huge loss,

Should servants bear it as a cross?

We pray for rains,

They torment us with pains.

 

by Biodun Busari

Biodun Busari is a creative writer, invaluable blogger, informative teacher, exquisite author and splendid Geographer. He blends his innate talents with acquired skills to sensitize and enlighten the society to be a safer place for people to live in. He writes poems, short stories and other forms of writings to address social, economic and political issues. Visit his blog – biodunbusari.home.blog