by Okoye Chukwudi Charles Ezeamalukwuo

All souls day
And the dearly departed,
The living dead among us
Have now gathered upon our thoughts,
Upon the corridors of the hearts
That chant love and beat blood.

Today my soul rises from within my being
And my heart glows at every sound.
The wind blowing across the cliff
Have stolen me from myself;
And I must go down to those paths
Whose hearts are cold
And whose eyes are dead.

Ogbughalu Ikechukwu, Gozie Offor,
Obinna Udeh, Ma Nmezi, Chidi Tbag
Chukwudi Ezisi and Robert Osuji
And many others…

My friends, my brothers, my associates,
Those I had once shared laughter and tears
My friends are no where to be found
For they are no more upon the earth

My ancestors, my forefathers
Men whose hearts bear the replica of a lion,
Women whose breast fed the great elephants
My ancestors
Are all resting beneath my feet,
Underneath these dark streets I tread
Whose roads are knitted in the torn pages of history.
I have walked its full expanse of weeds,
Shrubs and broken trees.
I have dug deep into its soil with worn out tools,
Worn out hoes, shovels greased with palm oil.
I have looked into its broken windows with disappointed eyes
And picked up a fallen brick from its fractured walls;
-Walls that confine us against ourselves.
I picked this fragile brick to build a bridge across these streets,
Whose hearts are cold
And whose eyes are dead.

My dearly departed, my kinsmen;
-Brave hunters of the Rain forest;
Cassava farmers of the River Niger;
Bronze carvers of the palm tree region.
My ancestors, -worshippers of a long forgotten gods.
Kindred spirits sacrificed on the altar of civilisation.
Today I mourn you all.
The piper pipes his songs among your bones.
The Heavens shed their tears upon your tombs.
And I do carve your names on the stones.
I carve it in black and in blood.
I bear its mark within my soul.
My ancestors, my kinsmen;
My friends, and companions
-Unsung heroes of our clan
-Unknown warriors of our land
-Untold legends that graced our sand.
Today I mourn you all.

Today is all souls day;
And I must go down to these streets
Whose hearts are cold,
And whose eyes are dead.

Lyriversity — Liberty of Creativity

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