by Abiodun Onabanjo-Onatola
I.
Let me take you through into me
and now, I want to make you a diver without ocean and if your heart still beats; humane, it’s through your sojourn in me that I will have my mind made.
The Flag, green-white-green;
lush savanna of abundance and citizens toiled for numberless hours; on farmlands without fairer fee, without compensation, justifiable a good merits for their endless toiling.
Yet, their souls in search for merriments had the soles of their feets, pleasurably punctured as they joyously gyrated on cactuses, that are pointing to freedoms, a pancaked path to another free-doom.
At 20-10-20*F, the enjoyment reached denouement and in their quests of dressing their nakedness took to the streets, a displeasure of everything by those good men in powers deemed good.
For days continued, as the Lord will won’t and the occupier of the First Citizen commiserated with them, the soldiers of the land joined in this festival of freedom, an hundred bullets in celebration-like have them to halved them.
And Lekki tolls became another Golgotha of bodies without bones.
Sanwo said; “soldier came, people died and said the next day – nobody died”.
On whose bodies does those bullets feds?.
Who gave the orders?.
If Our eyes have not seen too well into the goodness by the self-enrichment of those in power wrought, we would be thinking we dreamt it all…
✍🏽Ire 1805🌏.
2025.
