I SAW HER a poem by Ibikunle Iwalewa

Ibikunle Iwalewa. I SAW HER

Those soft palms have lost their succulence to the tyranny of manual labour.

Her tender skin has forfeited its rawness to the harshness of western weather.

The freshness of her face is struggling hard not to yield all its glow to the numbing cold.

The pristine luminosity of her squinty eyes is slowly fading under the turban of haze that scrolls down from European sky.

Survival is reasonably guaranteed but that once-upon-a-time revival in her spirit has substantially ebbed.

Worship time is also work time; temple obeisance must bow to the unsettling nuisance of monthly bill settlement.

Is this life? Yes it is life! The system isn’t perfect but fair. It sure beats the clowning of our crown princes down town. A fair day’s wages for a fair day’s work. It reckons that a labourer is worthy of his wages.

You can slave it out on the white man’s isle for a while and return home to live as king.

With just one wallet filled with British pounds some folks have gone to build a walled estate in their village.

No thanks to the emperors of our dear native land who rule by terror because we in error suffered their ass to rule over our head.
Never again shall we commit such egregious faux pas; that political gaffe that only created a Persian gulf between the manacled masses and their marauding landlords! Never.