Swarming like wild bees Swimming from the brooks Of outer Marina Racing into the fountain Of Islet of Lagos. Our Lagos, Their Lagos. Diverse religionists On spiritual missions, Raising up hands in supplications For open heaven, For praise and worship. Some on mundane missions. Spivs, urchins alike
But this congestion suffocated Spaces wept for control Sea breezes searched for outlets From outer Marina
And wants of oxygen waves Hands for recognition. Both faithfuls, penitents , miscreants needed air for survival. Protestations appealed for audience. Legs spent and tired , Craving for rhapsodic attention
Where are more seats? Where are more spaces?
Helpless ushers uncaring.
But from the stage roars Songs of inspirations , Songs of supplications Like war cries. Sounds from desk to dawning, Music from dawn into deskiness. And seat glued me till cockcrow
Night broke into day. Fading music expelled adherents Out of arena. A loud silence now reigned.
Freedom from the fangs of stampede. I experienced experience I witnessed experience