Love, I sat
Under the shelter of your thoughts
My heart is heavy
Of myriad of your desires
But the crowds before me are busy
Without being conscious of your absence
Love, the house has broken down
Only the broken fence stands
Like the remaining pillars of Jericho
And children of violence are praising God
With their tongues piercing us apart
Like a wind on a mass of dried leafs
Love, do not come
If hell and heaven were not in private place
If the destitute should lives in a dense forest
If some could read under the sun and rain
If we could found your meaning in the dictionary
If a chameleon could tell its true colour
Love, do not come
If the umbrella could prevent the dust
If the broom could shelter the sun
If we could remember ourselves as owners of the process
If faith was not an activity of the mind
If Muhammad and Jesus were not from heaven’s quarters
If Orunmila was not Olodumare’s house maid
But love, come and bound us
Like rubber in the bottom of bunched broom
Love, the orphans are looking the sun face
The widows are running without destination
The men are at the junction of many paths
And the lucky ones are laughing foolishly.
Written by: Bada Yusuf Amoo
