By Anuforo Kingsley A.
I Shall Bloom Again!
I am a chameleon
Despite my flamboyance of colours
And dignified regal steps
I am often exposed to danger
I cannot escape fast enough,
Even if the bush is burning.
I am a tortoise
Famous for my antics in folklores
Being so wise and meticulous
I had to carry my house wherever I go
But the weight of my wisdom burdens me;
That though I live a hundred and fifty years
It is a slow and distant journey in tears.
I am a hen.
I am too busy trying to feed my chicks
I could neither attend town union nor “umunna”
Then was the conspiracy thought out, contrived and it thrived
My eggs were for sacrifice and consumption
My chicks were also for sacrifice and prey,
To my sister birds and to other animals
Worse still, I am food to man.
I am a hunter’s dog
Though I betray my kin
And help my master to kill my kith
What do I have to show for my commitment and labour?
At last I am locked out
And only the hard bones are thrown at me.
I am a snake
Hated and loathed by all
Some see me as sinister
Others are scared by my lethal venom
But no one considers my plight
Having to crawl on my belly
All the days of my life
Whether the weather is hot or cold.
My movement is sleek, my face beautiful
And my appearance innocuous.
I am a mosquito
Hated by all men, women and children
If they do not bar me with nets,
They use terrible chemical weapons
Or foul smelling suffocating coils
Some use hands or brooms
To smash me wherever I am seen.
But do I have a choice?
I have to suck blood that is my food
To make matters worse, I have a very short life span
I am a vulture
Everyone sees me as ugly and venomous
But I am grateful to God
That I am not food to man
I am a patient sanitary worker
Clearing the street of dead bodies
But avoiding desecrated lands.
I am a black man in Asia, Europe and America
I was brought here in chains of slavery
The chain has been taken away
From my neck, hands and legs
And now it is gripping my soul
Hated, humiliated and dehumanised
Strangled and shot freely by the cops
My best is viewed with condescension and scepticism.
I am an Igbo man in Nigeria
Misunderstood, misrepresented untrusted, betrayed.
Even the colonial ‘masters’ initiated
And established a structure to hold me down
Even my nearest neighbours have been deceived
To fear imaginary dominance by me
The rest seem to agree
That I should never rise to great heights again
And now one, even wishes
That I wasn’t there
at all
What did I do to them?
I am ultra democratic and a core nationalist
I invest and build structures everywhere.
I believe in a larger market and my
Continued capacity to break through.
Dispossessed and pinned to the ground
I still sprang up.
I am the seed of a delicious fruit
Throw me away and watch me sprout, spring and spread
I shall bloom again .
