 |
| by Ọlálékan Hussein |
"This land is birthed in blood, trooping out from broken bodies." —Ariyo Ahmad
we were taught quickly that planting water in the mouth without gulping is another way to know a rugged soldier in a battleground.
all that exists in this realm is a badge bearing lachrymose information, & I dodge every call that carries my country code to avoid being a foreigner in my fatherland.
here, we were taught fearing God is a sin, & anyone who sins will become an augmentation of fire.
you're taught to duck your head, so your afro won't get trimmed by bomb that sees your blackness as a dark portent.
when the News pops up in our TV, I always feel my body swimming in a fjord of blood at the verge of perusing.
when you try to air out what your eyes filched last night, they muzzle you with bullets, & gobble you with hungry pyres waiting to betray your innocent body.
when my phone beeps twice like a metronome, two things war in my brain: It's either they have burnt down a soul in the famished eyes of local people,
or a vulnerable boy has seen death in the face, at the back of a cathedral when reporting his country to God.
a bird hovers on the stool of my window, then looks left & right like a purloiner planning burglary: "run away, for this poem won't sail you out of holocaust" it tweets.
***
Waliullah Hussein Olalekan, NGP VI is an emerging poet who writes from Lagos, Nigeria, where he studies in an Arabic/Islamic institution, Darul Falah, & also a protege learning Arts & Graphic Design in Festac Town, Lagos. He finds joy in Literature as he sees it as a surgery to calm himself. A Best Of The Net Nominee with works published & forthcoming in: The Shallow Tales Review, Brittle Paper, Eremite Poetry, STRIPES, Lunaris Review, Eboquills, Better Than Starbucks, amongst others. Twitter @Waliullah_06
