A Tribute To Chinua Achebe Poem by Melody Iveren Kuku

When the bushes of our father's land
Lay uncut
And we waddled about with newly weaned feet,
A hand sweated with a ferocious pen,
Wisdom was written,
Bemoaning things that should come.

With the lips of the pen,
He spoke words that slashed at men in government seats,
One prophecy,
Things fall apart, the center cannot hold
And another,
There was a country he cried,
Before we rushed at each other's throats.

Guns and duels
Tribes against tribes
Forcing a father land on ancestors that knew nothing of the other.
Blood, death, hungry children
Testament of white men's experiments.

Peace finally came
And the one whose pen prophesied
Weary of collective black folly
Exiled from the land of blood,
Closed his eyes to the earth
Leaving memories of a mind
That would never be forgotten.

Adieu I'll say,
China Achebe, scribe of scribes
But adieu is too short, a goodbye.