By CM Owolabi Philip
We got married in 1960
With a beautiful green and white attire
We attracted foreign visitors to grace the occasion
With this benchmark, we got into bloodymoon
We hadn't procreated many children
When ego and tribe began to make sense
Till a brawl began and became survival of the fittest
We still weren't reconciled
Soon, the marriage judge lost his wig
As our pastors began to flee
Not even our counsellors could speak
because we've beckoned on armored men to lead
Men in green and armed with rifles came to mediate
They treated us like dung and called it their way
They said it was to help they've come this far
They carted our joy and left us grey
One question that still rings at the corner of my mind
"Was I ever in love before I said, I do?"
"Did I ever desire her and did she too?"
"I think we were coerced or made to play the fool
Tags:
Poetry