My ancestor’s wildest dream
a rare country today – my birthplace
yet not the land of my fathers.
My future has been stolen
stacked away in bank vaults
in Zurich, London n’ New York
exchanged for mansions in Dubai n’ Paris.

As citizens, often, we amuse ourselves:
we’re no cowards at the hour of reckoning,
braggarts or hashtag activists afterward
we’re unwavering for a cause, not for the cheer
but, in truth we are lazy, entitled n’ docile;

we stick our hands in our pockets
afraid to say a YES or a definite NO
unable to stand for or against our interests
we are left to incubate the Status quo –
deeds that have little bearing on the main plot,

it’s our drama and that of our children that is being staged.
We’re actors n’ audience both, yet unable to change the script,
we tweet n’ chant issues of no concern to us –
I can’t breathe, Big Brother Naija, Donald the Biden
while Southern Kaduna burns, while Poverty dines at our table.

Send a tweet to the street –
Wake up, Millennials! Rediscover yourself, your strength.
Change is an unwilling taskmaster, except when led
by the hand by willing crusaders.
Send a tweet to the street –
“A voice raised is a vision realized;
a voice heard is Power held to account!”

Copyright © Ugo Nkwoala | Spilledwoords | 2020

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