Who Killed It? Poem by Damilare Tella

They say our culture is dead
They ululate the demise of our heritage
Cos of this, they profess that our future is gloomy
If truly 'tis dead, then I ask, who killed it?

Is it us who were trained to speak the foreign tongue?
We, who at birth were given a western lens,
We, who sucked breast as we grew to see things as they are

Or them, who held each other's noses cos of the breeze from the upper North
They who tilled our soil and then planted in it its ruin
Them, who drank our well dry and spat on each other's faces
Them, who thrust their dagger to our roots, cos of the notes with Ben's face and her majesty's smile

Tis whose fault that we are where we are
Not mine and not my peers, cos on the throne we are yet to sit.
Even if we'll, on ruins shall it be.

When they say to us that our culture is dead
We must ask them, Who killed it?