Emmanuel Ayeni

I rose with may 29, hailed as dawn,
a new sun to silence doubters.
I faltered in my course,
I became a shadow.
...

I, this day, crowned in might,
a giant of promise, a bearer of light.
Yet sixty-five years, and what is the fruit?
Wealth in my ground, but hunger at root.
...

Hurray! we've got Grads selling water on the street
‎you know, that degree in education was just a sweet treat
‎Who needs a classroom when you can hawk with finesse?
‎Not like they trained for years to educate, no stress!
...

‎Oh, good morning to you, shining dead land
‎Your emptiness is a gift, what joy to survive again
‎The sun rises high, in a cloudless, vacant sky
‎Because who needs shade, when you can have a sun-scorched sigh?
...

Beneath the weight of lost desire.
A nation's heart beats with fading fire
Discordant notes, a people's pain.
Echoes of a promise, oh! vain.
...

‎I am the annual visitor,
‎never late, never absent.
‎Your ministries draft reports,
‎I draft rivers across your highways.
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I live where you drive
the uninvited guest you cannot evict
Your contractors come with their trucks
their surveys, their grand plans
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Tears carved a river down my face,
the first in years, a bitter trace.
I scrolled a feed of broken lands,
ruins slipping through weary hands.
...

In this cracked earth, where faith bleeds dry,
Why do our tears fall, yet the heavens stay shy?
You birthed this nation with a sculptor's hand,
Why then do tyrants reign, and truth disband?
...