(In Honour of Prof. Buchi Emecheta)
For the joy of consciousness
I read you countless
I smelt your grievance
I felt your episodes
Scenes and synopsis
you took from the stages to the pages.
Sussed from a bitter side of womanhood
A world growing wild like tendrils
To be or not to be;
Africa must have been accursed
Smuggled through the ditch of venoms
by her neighbours.
The voice of the voiceless second-class citizens
Ọnyèbụchi Emèchetá
..You lit a candle
In the dark room of dejection and whispers
..You broke the silence and spoke loudly;
that even the heavens could hear you.
To the ring that betrays the fist
..the sheep that bleeds by the sword of its shepherd
To the dreams that were murdered in cold-blood
The falsettos that misrepresent womanhood
..and the narratives that quells Africanism
You spoke!!!
© A. O. Nwulia Literary Diary 2017
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 3:22 AM UTC
(In Honour of Prof. Buchi Emecheta)
For the joy of consciousness
I read you countless
I smelt your grievance
I felt your episodes
Scenes and synopsis
you took from the stages to the pages.
Sussed from a bitter side of womanhood
A world growing wild like tendrils
To be or not to be;
Africa must have been accursed
Smuggled through the ditch of venoms
by her neighbours.
The voice of the voiceless second-class citizens
Ọnyèbụchi Emèchetá
..You lit a candle
In the dark room of dejection and whispers
..You broke the silence and spoke loudly;
that even the heavens could hear you.
To the ring that betrays the fist
..the sheep that bleeds by the sword of its shepherd
To the dreams that were murdered in cold-blood
The falsettos that misrepresent womanhood
..and the narratives that quells Africanism
You spoke!!!
© A. O. Nwulia Literary Diary 2017
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