On A Coal Of Fire Poem by Tosin Abegunde

On A Coal Of Fire



On this coal of fire I sit,
Patiently, like a hen on a line
Museling about this socio-malady
That makes a man bleats
Instead of facing his clarion call,
And I see a constelation of heads
Running like a lunatic chasing the wind,
All, after a sceptre meant for one,
Desired by selected few but many
Yet within a filthy holy coventary.

'Have you forgotten the message:
Many are called; few are chosen? '
A call that rings bell within me
Constantly reminds of the mission.
Untill a garment is cast off,
No nakedness can be uncovered!
This I reason within with much care
To conclude that even in the sanctuary
Lies the striken stinking saints
That nail Christ again for a coin!

Now I've seen the nudity of my ancestors
I've bathed in their pool of regrets
Gnashing to anger in fury.
I soaked my pride, it float abroad
Only to sell my tears for the joy of others
This home we built together from the scratch
But the occupants tend to know better
Though our tongues and mission differ,
Yet we claim in one accord we are
With time, I know, we will be free from self-slavery.

Wednesday, February 11, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: art
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Tosin Abegunde

Tosin Abegunde

Akure, Nigeria.
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