In a soul touching poem, the poet has paid glowing tributes to the Fon of Esu who was assassinated some months ago.
It is a compiling read.
A POEM: THE THROBBING BANG
The place is called Esu
And it is for Usu.
A land founded with a spear,
Now bounded by tears.
One that is cosmopolitan,
Hoping to be megalopolitan.
A land believed to be a fountain of peace,
But now a mountain apiece.
A people ever united,
Now so far divided.
A town always admired,
Today in a quagmire.
One that is supposed to be a spring of hope,
But now a spray of despair.
A Town known to have produced great Sages,
Today, seemingly an adage.
A people believed to be pacesetters,
But now seen scattered.
A community known to be victors,
Today seen victims.
One formerly dreadful to her adversaries,
But will be a mockery to her every mensiversary
Peace running away
And panic, the lone option
All these because of a rumour,
One we find it is not for humour.
Then confusion sets in,
What do we do then?
Blue blood has truly been spilled
And the ears of every Esu man are shrilled.
This makes my heart bleed,
But I cannot make their hearts beat.
This reduces the meaning of life
As no one seems safe.
The tap root is truly damaged
So the leaves and branches have no chlorophyll
Enormous questions are echoed;
Who has done this?
What are the person’s reasons?
What does the killer stand to gain?
Is there any reason enough to take away human life?
Does it have to be that barbaric and tragic?
What happens to the conscience?
Did Usu offend anyone?
Is death the solution to such squabbles?
Did peaceful negotiations fail?
What was the Queen’s own crime?
Could she not be spared?
Who is next?
I have continued to wonder
But the more I do,
The more I marvel.
And even in my desperation,
I can make no decision.
Esu is in complete devastation
And some are for black magic,
Saying the deaths are too tragic.
A majority pray to God the Father
As the pain extends further.
Most believe in Divine vengeance
But others instill deterrence.
People are questioned
But answers bring more questions.
Days and months pass,
But nothing seems to be done fast.
Accusations and counter accusations dominate our days
Yet, no facts advanced till this day.
Almost half a year gone already
And we keep asking the day the truth will be ready.
Most fingers point at the Meh Buhs,
Saying they caused this taboo.
This sounds ridiculous!!!
But this can never remain bayous
Booms of another set of questions emerge;
Who drove the Great Iroko home after the horror?
One of the Meh Buhs
Who “fixed” the lion there after?
One of the Meh Buhs
Who performed the greatest royal ritual that is usually done when an Iroko tree falls?
Still one of the Meh Buhs.
We know touching human blood is deadly
But touching blue blood is even more deadly.
Yet the ancestors remain indolent
While our Supreme God Almighty is still silent
Let the Heavens speak against the concerned
As our belts remain fastened
His ways are not our ways
Therefore we know His weapons sway
Yet tears fill our land
With fears we can’t understand.
The course of our development has been thwarted
But we remain strong hearted.
Usu as a people want justice
Because for now we are still in a hospice.
Lord come to our rescue
Since we don’t know if we’re on the right queue
Love and sincerity could be our catalysts
But who are going to be our stylists?
Justice remains our destination
But if we fail, it remains an abomination.
I ask myself,
Can we do anything on our own?
The answer is;
Usu, the Lord is your strength!!!
By MEH BUH CYRIL-JOSEPHSON