Walls of death! Those dark eyes staring at the spirit
of a struggling soul, held behind bars of brutality!
And do I not know your footsteps?
Those brutal boots that crunch aloud along the corridors of death!
Take my soul! Take my soul! Feed my flesh to the vultures!
Paint the rainbow with the colours of my blood!
Better for me to die like this than bow to your democratic subtleties!
This spirit shall blaze in your darkened dawn
like the fire of the sun. This voice shall be the cockcrow
Of your voiceless dawn. These splashing tears shall wash
away the stains still dripping from our wounded innocence.
Listen! Listen to the throb of my pulse
As it dances to the beats of a true dawn
Not born by tyranny. Not baptised with brutality.
Democracy, not crucified by truth!
Written by: Charles Nnamuka
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
I am a member of the WRR editorial team.