Email Poem |
How long shall I be in babylon and sing a song of hope and weariness?
Whence my heart perishes in servitude,
I have been debased to infra dig in a vast land we call our own.
They seek my basket,
They seek my soul.
I seek my future,
The restoration of my being!
Biafra the rising sun,
Unshaken as the waters
Return in the torrents of the sea
Return, return oh Biafra land
And return after many years.
I'm a fertile woman,
I'm raped before my groom;
I'm a strong man,
My bones are wrecked at harvest.
Seasons are gone,
But from the shallow graves crieth 6 Million carcases hacked in their prime!
They cry for grave yards,
They cry for freedom:
Arise and bind the fettals!
Arise and unleash our hearts from captivity!
Unchain my soul,
Unsex my body,
I thirst for freedom!
Return with our chariots and hoes,
Return with our pen and scepter,
And return to a land we shall call our own.
I'm a brilliantly beautiful bride,
I'm on tattered clad lay by the gutters.
When shall i wear fine robes like my mates?
We had been the sacrifice of unholy matrimony,
Raped and battered in it,
Yet our intellect fecund.
Thou shalt rise again!
The candles beneath the bow shel,
The touch under the earth,
Thou shall rise atop the mountain peak!
From the arid of Sokoto,
Down the valleys of Kanu,
Until you nest on the hills of Enugu!
Though the tormentous nights tarry,
With vicious incubus and succubus;
But shalt the dawn break,
The sun shall rise in the East!
Though the pillages and merciless carnage roar,
And the sword of the mighty army swing,
But my intellect and justice prevail
Until thine banner is hoist on the red hills of Enugu.