by Sanusi Omolola Latifat
With the ink of blood
You left the letters of pain
In the pool of memory
On that dreadful day
You took the flight of doom;
A voyage of no return
In the sea of hopeless memory
Loved ones wait
As hearts pumps in pain
We beheld the pulp of your carcasses
And grew deaf to the vision of encouragement
We became trapped
In the pit of these deaths
So is the stench
From this accursed memory.
That lyrical sorrow
That emanates from the drumbeats
Of crashed dream and shattered hopes.
When we saw the vultures were waiting
That dark Sunday!
When the moon refused to smile
We shed a sea of thorny tears
That woeful day
The birds refused to sing;
The grasshopper refused to hop
And the thunder rebuked the lightening
We beheld the monster of catastrophes
And the mountain of calamity
That joy-marred day
When elephants morphed into maggots
We beheld flesh
Shred into flakes
On that dream-tattered Sunday
When the stench of death
Invaded our nostrils
We beheld the mirror of shattered dreams
That refused to break!
For how long shall we drink
From the river of bitterness?
How long shall we wail in vain
While our future go down the drain?
Dana crash: The clash of future hopes and failed generations.
