The Freedom We Try For

Gunmen abduct school children
in Nigeria's Niger State.
Photo Courtesy: France24.com

Freedom's chains

Guarantee some things may never change

When we ride

We ride high

Trucking together in a pile

Like cattle shipping on a one-way train.

Constant thoughts of imminent derail

Hum like a sequined refrain

Reenacting the monsters we engage.

And tho we ought to be ashamed,

We're pointing fingers

Serving the next dude the blame.

The center can't wait out the teeter,

Seems we're at the end of our tether.

With one voice

We chant, 'One nation

Bound in freedom,'

Yet the copious maelstrom

That engulfs the federation

Can't hold a candle to Herod's dungeon.

Our freedom enslaves us

Exploiting our captivity

Within our own geographical radius,

It undermines the concept of unity:

We y'all a burden one to another,

Can't get off the other's shoulder.

We're the product of a glitch

Of a rambling colonial leech.

But it's time to put the past

Where it belongs: in the past.

That we'll be able to transform

The jangling discords of our nation

Into a beautiful symphony of brotherly compassion.

And run Nigeria, our country

Into the ground,

For good.

Or negotiate one final turnaround,

For me and for you.

Akpan

Soulja Story

A soulja battling Boko Haram who is also fighting his personal
demons writes his daughter about his personal struggles.

Dear Daughter,

This is not Father.

Tell you what; this war's been one tough nut to crack;

If we fight the enemy we shall hit our brothers.

There's no telling who got dragged into this joint;

Or who got paid to settle for a human bomb.

I've had nightmares where I woke up totally drenched;

Victory has never before tethered on a more slippery edge.

Who willingly yields up a daughter?

Then turns around and cries, Murder! Murder!

Who can spot the color of truth, color of a lie?

Who discerns a foe just by looking 'em in the eye?

Sometimes, I feel this is a struggle in vain.

I assume it sounds lame and probably is insane.

But can I be positive I ain't sticking out my neck for a traitor?

Can I state with certainty there ain’t secret mass burial sites?

They wear our faces and speak our tongue.

They sniff out the nitty-gritty of our minds.

If I sound a bit off the wall maybe I am.

But when we get down to brass tacks it’s Nigerians offing Nigerians.

Things are never what they seem behind enemy lines,

In this place I wage war and for same I lay down my life.

Dear Daughter,

This is Father.

Akpan

Season of Sacrifice

And I know where my happiness lies;

My salvation unfolds before my eyes.

I anticipate feverishly, the morning of evil's demise

Thus my pen shall never run dry until it is realized,

Until I obtain true justification for this sacrifice.

Devastated and cornered though they may be,

Our outcome is tied to their outcome by destiny’s strings.

Our survival is as slim as the vapor of their dying breath.

If we forget them, who we are perishes in their death.

Cause the tragedy is not to die but to be wasted.

Daily, the fate of thousands arrive upon a nightmare,

Spun out like the thread of a graphic horror story.

Day and night their pastime is a game called terror and fear.

Our organs rot and decay and all we do is drag our feet;

They live on the edge of death, blinded by tears.

“The summer has passed

The harvest has ended

But we are not saved.”

Akpan