Beckoning

We sit on the rare riches
Of the globe
Our flag of freedom planted
In the solid soul of the continent
But day after day, we wonder
Why we have arrived here

Startling flight of patridges 
A moment of fear
Leaping out of Tilapia
A thing of terror
Our ancestors married and merried here
Our children become wearied of here 
And hurry in hundreds to distant homes 

Neighbours of amphibians and arthropods
We have been 
Frogs’ chants 
An amen to our morning invocations
Flies’ carols
A respite after our daily toil
Mosquitoes’ hymns 
A comfort in our bedtime
Thumbs up to them all
For their humanitarian aid
If nobody cares
Our neighbours do
                                                                
          II
A marathon of misery
This land has run
Since it witnessed
The shivering of the sun
The darkening of stars and
The smothering of truth

A marathon of misery
This land has run
Since some ate a meal of toads
And began to tell a tale of woes
To their children

A marathon of misery
This land has run
As people gather
Around flickering flames
Listening to the songs of another land
Where the merry moon smiles at every face

A marathon of misery
This land has run
As many sit 
inside their comforts 
And  pray and pray every morning  
And wish and wish every night

A marathon of misery
This land has run
As we look away
When  the  fire of greed is razing down
Our hope

A marathon of misery
This land has run
As every man is on the run.
Yes, on the run! 
But if summer gives us a sanctuary 
Harmattan will always beckon us