Change Poem by Owoade Adewale

When my Africa dance,
She dances the dance
Of the warriors who builds
My home with their
Blood on my naked soil.

When my Africa dance,
She dances the dance
Of the wars who free
My home with their
Scars on my naked soil.

When my Africa dance,
She dances the dance
Of the gods who guide
My home with spirits
On my naked soil.

But today,
When my Africa dance
In the front of those
Modern city lights,
You shove your head out;
Out of your motoka,
Gnash your teeth
At the jejune sight
Beholding your civilized eyes.

Your Priest shakes his head
In sorry to the unholy stranger
In front of his sacred realm
And pray: ‘Dear Lord
To this mad woman
Please grant a relief! ’