Muffled Sound @64 – Bakwo Ademu

POEM

I can barely hear
The sound of drums
That were loud and clear
Re-vibrated the four-walls of the nation
Pumped into echo
At Tafawa Balewa square
Lagos on a day like this.

October 1, 1960 as the episode.
Where a giant was born
Who now wobbles on it feet, Nigeria.

Even at 64?
The eagle is ducking
And the giant of Africa
Collapsing on feble boughs.

The isignia of our collective identification, leaking
And the whiteness of the flag is stained with
Blood of the iñnocent souls.

Muffled sound of drum
For drummers have picked race,
Butchered by the fire
Leaped from the muzzle of the militants’ gun.
Militants who with ego, now voice their membership in the market square.

The sound is muffled
The dancers of the drum
Are no where to be found
Having stayed back
From the roaming kidnapers
Set to take them for ransom.

The drum is muffled
As citizens recline to their cocoon
Away from the threat
Of reckless massacre
Of Boko-Haram.

Muffled is the sound
For the kleptomaniacs,
Politicians have sold off
The resources of the drum
And looted the treasury
Leaving behind empty drum.

The militants, Boko Haram, Kidnappers and LOOTERS of our common heritage
Have taken our joy
On a day like this.

Nigeria at 64, no echo from beating drums
But wail and anguish enacts.
Oh! what a muffled sound.