RUNAWAY

 

Let me tell the tale of this beloved nation
The tale of our baffled father and his wayward son
For our father had built this giant land
Green; unity despite diversity
Community; culture
All green
This is the land on which we dwell
The land on which he had deigned his son to rule

But our father’s son has his head up high
Grumbling with pride at every turn
His shoulders set
And his chest looking up to the sky
He approaches his father
I am not satisfied; our land is unproductive
Our land is bare; our land is empty
he says

Our father is baffled; for he can only see the land
Flowing with goodness waiting to be plucked whole
Our father asks: what do you want, son?
Our father’s son says: You do not have what I want
And then he leaves his land, his father’s presence
And off he goes, to another land
He promises to return, but only after things change
Father says: Who would change things when you are gone?

Now, our father is dead
Our giant land is left desolate
Dry bones, hovering debris, battered land
From the hilltops to the crumbling valleys
We await our father’s son’s return
Hoping conscience would minister to him
But our heart is troubled, it suspects
Our father’s son is never coming back

 

Imhanguelo Angela hails from Lagos State. She is currently studying English and Literature in the University of Benin, Benin City.

EDITORIAL NOTE: Imhanguelo Angela is a previously unpublished poet; Praxis Magazine Online is delighted to host “Runaway” on our site as her first publication, and honoured to be able to offer her debut poem to our readers.

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