Nigerian: God breathes life into man
& man breathes life into a cyborg
and teaches it how to tread on water
then walk on the brown page of earth.
When I gaze out of the window,
I listen to the noise in the Nigeria Streets.

Cyborg: So, how do you define your country?
Nigerian: Watering a plant that’s unwilling to grow

Cyborg: & what do you see when you stare at the Nigeria of the Streets?
Nigerian: I see millions of hungry citizens & I listen to their voices, clamoring to be heard, but the government doesn’t understand the language they speak.

& since the country has been drowned in deep blood & no one fights for freedom, we all bear the cross of the homeland sins – home is where I smell un-nurtured scars on my country’s skin where no dictators heal.

Cyborg: Then I should step into the Streets for a new dawn
enough of the same broadcast of how to rebuild a broken country that keeps falling and falling and falling.

How would I change this narrative?

Nigerian: The government doesn’t listen.
Remember, you are in the unripe age and the government says your tongue is not curled enough to criticize injustice / peace.

Cyborg: Change must begin with me
I shall walk in the palm of God & thou heart shall find peace and the crossroads of life will be crossed with ease.

Cyborg: & how would a country’s soil flourish a new scent of freedom?
Nigerian: when the plant wills to grow

& who shall wet the plant?
Those who aren’t frightened of rebuilding this broken country, because this country always frightens me with my silence, my silence, my silence.

Cyborg: because he who wants to drink the water in the coconut – knows a sacrifice must be made – a sacrifice by every citizen because it’s our responsibility to flourish this country into the island of relevancy.

Dear Cyborg
take me back home
into the streets
where I belong
& where should we plant this plant
& wet this plant
till it grows in abundance.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photo by Kureng Workx from Pexels