By Ogunjimi James Taiwo
Blood, tears, severed limbs and legs.
Murder has been done.
Not on the streets, not in the slums,
But in the place we call Sacred.
Charred remains, unrecognisable.
Tearful goodbyes, mass burials, corpse-less coffins.
Death has struck again.
Not on the road, not in the sea,
But right in the sky.
Gaping wounds, lifeless bodies,
Riddled with bullets and pumped full of lead.
Death has come visiting yet again.
Not in the ‘hallowed’ chambers, not in the government houses,
But in our ivory towers.
National mourning upon national mourning.
Our eyeballs are red and bloodshot; we won’t cry no more.
We want no gold or silver, or a piece of the national cake you’re eating,
All we want is justice and nothing more.
Justice; Is that too much to ask for?
Peace; Is that too much to hope for?
Our one cry now is for justice.
We’re done crying; we want justice!
Ogunjimi James Taiwo