AFRICA SHALL GLITTER AGAIN - ÒGÚNYỌMÍ ISRAEL ABÍDÈMÍ


Several strangers, upon many moments,
While through the toughest throat of this scion
They tread, shake heads shamefully – Mocking in advance, the much expected Gloomy end of our fatally ill continent.


Some ask and pause:
‘Isn’t this the resplendent earth upon
Which sore sweats of struggle From gallant nationalists’ armpits Dripped as dews of dawn?’


Some pause and ask:
‘Isn’t this the sacred altar over
Which adamant martyrs’ blood
Which strove to retrieve brothers’ feet
From the hostile shackles of Albinos’ chains
Were split shamelessly as libation of atonement
To clear complex clusters of colonial claustrophobia, Which stupefied the cranium of cloudscape?


Ah! How come the ball of Africa, pumped-plumed
By bare arms of political emancipators,
Wobbles woefully amongst tetanic trees of anguish, Situated dangerously between regional poles
At the crossroads of developmental quagmire?’


But, o wandering wayfarers as the cloud, Mock not yet with clever rhetoric. Haven’t you seen those soaring Eagles?
We’ve heard our kindred’s spirits whisper:
Africa shall rise and glitter again!


This pregnant night shall beget the clearest day; Africa shall rise and glitter again!
Blighted pods shall drop and rot
To re-fertilize the earth for this weary cocoa; Africa shall rise and glitter again!


Like the statue of Poseidon painted in gold At the temple of gods in the ancient Greece, Africa shall rise and glitter again!


O sacred seeds seeped by Africa’s loin,
Rejoice and sing, Africa shall rise and glitter again! Like the golden yolk in the noon sun,
Africa shall rise and glitter again!

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