Dear friends,

This poem by Hadijat Akinbola speaks volumes about the situation in the country. I am privileged to have acquired permission from the budding lawyer to share this piece.

Read and be inspired. Reflect and find your voice in this growing oppression.

She calls it

See From This Mirror.

Happy slaughtering.
A brush dipped into a bucket of cold blood,
The nation painted red.
Put off the light.
The sounds of zombies.
The cries of infants butchered and slaughtered.

June is not brutal
How was the merriment in Plateu?
Bring out dishes, corpses can fill hungry stomachs.
Put down the curtains
The smell of the painted country oozes and stenches
A cup of blood directly from a youth of his parents hope
A yarn of muscle from an able-bodied lying in the tonic pumping from the heart.
Serve the dishes, a toast to woes and anguish.

Turn on the light
Raise the curtains!
I know that sound.
No. She's just a girl I don't know, never mind.
Hey... You see the default in the connection of the CNS of man after it's been set?

We are not from a mother but we are bonded by religion
Not from a father but by tribe
By tongue
By boundary
By borders
By humanity
And mortality.
We are humans and we are connected by that virtue.
"The next on the roll call,
Drag this body to the refrigerator."

Don't pray for Nigeria,
Put a halt to "Association of Oyo Brethren".
Omo Oodua is enough diversity
Don't dice an atom further.
The antidote to massacres is not in atonements to gods
Love an Hausa man and look beyond shoe making
Don't pray
Don't fast
Don't do all of the above unless you love every man to your heart.
Shut your eyes to tribalism
Open your eyes to humanity
Inhale Peace
Exhale borders and unintended contempt.
Though unintended, it will only sip into our arteries and form a confluence of hatred and pride.
Turn off the light.

It's a horror movie of a slice of life
Gruesome killings and brutal matcheting
Candles of hope put out
Blossoms of teenagers put to rest
It's a sunny spring in Nigeria, put on the fan.

It doesn't rain red on 28th June's only
Fogs of fumes don't blindfold on Thursday's only
It could have been the soul that wields this pen.
Breathe softly
Live kindly
Share generously.

Living hurts that many live to have lived only a couple of hours ago without bading adieu.
Live before it's truncated
And what is living except that this life was lived to step into a blissful tomorrow?
Shhh... "Live" before praying!

K (Hadijat)

She can be reached via

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