I have being scourged
dear sir
in the winks of your watch
down this basin of hope
Was it for me that you uprooted
the palm tree, sir?
That tree that held my nest close
to the smiles of the sun, sir?
Why have you become
my past when you promised me
the future, sir? Was it for me too
that you blinded the moon
from my dark path
and caused my eyes to stumble
upon shadows of tears?
If I must become deaf to your voice
and dumb to your ears
do I also have to suffer
the barrennes of my mothers' milk?
Sir, my sanity is back,
I don't know, sir, but where were you
when I punched the eyes of the wall
with the riddle of your absence
and beseeched Nnene who marched
beneath this dust to look for you?
Ah, sir, sir!
Don't curse me with a door-less
and window-less Obi
and don't bless me, I beg you, with
the sympathy of sycophants.