CLAN CALL ( An ode to Chinua Achebe)
Beat the drums
Chant the clarion cry
To al hewers of the word
To all fetchers of letters
For one esteemd has embarked
On the journey of no return
See! See! See!
How the life we know
Has turned from day to night
So suddenly
See! See! See!
How the malignant taskmasters he scorned
Gorge themselves fat on the worms of evil,
Their stomachs’ protrusion
Must be the object of our revulsion
See! See! See!
How the center from which
All gravities are drawn
Is no longer at ease
Yes! You can indeed see
How life and death
Are both denied men?
Such that they wonder why
Things fall apart
Yes! You can indeed perceive
The stench that oozes
When the truth, like a bow
Is bent foot to face?
Leaving us stranded
With a broken Arrow of God
Beat the drums
Chant the clarion call
To all hewers of the word
To all fetchers of letters
The time is at hand
When we all must
Dare the blank page
And engage the bare stage,
Striving to make his passing
Bring us peace that is lasting!
If our tutelage at
The feet of the Iroko
Must not be in vain;
Then we must make whips
As strong as bamboo chords
To let our characters breathe
Life into this stifling decay
Beat the drums
Chant the clarion call
To all hewers of the word
To all fetchers of letters
See that the embers he fanned
Are in our hands; not theirs
And they are prime possessions,
We must fan them again
To initiate a re-awakening and
Remind the world that
There was once a man and a country
And if the freedom he espoused
is only the distance between the hunter and the hunted, May
we never retreat!
Never surrender!
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