they say this land
is riverine of blood,
an estuary of bleeding waters
and the kind that plasters pity
on the face of the able-bodied.
they say this land
is not a land
but a home we own
and tread without the
business of humanity—
where we must fetch
the gory for glory,
where we must listen
to the rabbles with their rambles
and look away
because we are all
guilty of killing what
will assuage our griefs.
again, they say this land
is an immortal sickler who refuses
to die even when his bones
break in emaciation
and cries like a hapless impala
at the sight of a famished falcon.
and they say this land
harbours feigning heroes
who mount the throne
with systemic circulation
of retrogression.
so, tell us—
what is the best
way to pray for a nation
whose feet and feat no longer
lick the goodness
on its soil but leaves
its souls and soles
leaking reeking scar
on the map of the world?
tell us, tell us,
because—sometime ago
my fatherland was
the song of the world,
was that evergreen banner
and the anchorage
that ferried our sons
and daughters away from
the shore of despair.
tell us, tell us,
because—hundreds of moons ago
my fatherland joyed
with wings of pride
and sweetened our tongues
with riches that tasted
like heavenly berries.
I say tell us
the land where these
glories have gone,
because my fatherland
was not a beastly forest
but a home built for rest,
a castle fortressed with
peace and harmony.
tell us, tell us why
you killed the glories
of yesteryears
Clement Abayomi
Clement Abayomi is a Nigerian poet, critic, and short story writer. He has been published in African Writers Magazine, Writers Space Africa, and Poets Choice, among others. He won the 2024 ANAKwara Prize for Creative Writing. Currently, Abayomi studies English Literature at Lagos State University, Ojo.