Change

This poem was triggered by the present economic situation and the feeling of disappointment that has plagued the minds of Nigerians.


Fathers,
When you shouted change with brooms upraised
And your fingers with ink you thumbed your fate
Mothers,
When you paraded the markets night and day
With clothes and wrappers of his face
Singing solidarity, chanting praise names
Sons,
When you jumped from offices to campaign gates
For the naira notes that came with handshakes
Daughters,
When you tweeted their agenda again and again
Those lies you heard, staring at yards of foreign lace
Little did you know that change was a moving train
And you onboard to an endless stretch of pain

Little did you know that change was an exchange
Food on our tables for tiny grains on our plate
The tiny blinks of light for darkness like the Egyptians plague
The hum of generators for the crusade at petrol's gate
Little did you know that change was curtain fade
An entrance to another stage play
Now,
Fathers,
You work tirelessly for the clink of coins on the beggar's tray
Mothers,
You spoon up plates of oil n water; no spice
Eaten with aging mounds of garri; no rice
Sons and daughters,
You trade your iPad for rice grains
Arms akimbo! Awaiting change

Change has set its tail dangling
Sweeping the essence of living
Leaving at its trail, dust sprinkled in the air
Waiting the call to set aflame your lives again and again.
Now your skeletoned arms dance with empty bowls
Seeking change from gods unnamed
So laughable as laughter can be
This change that changes your being

Copyright Opetu Ebibote, 2016

Featured image: freedigitalphotos.net

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