To my father in prison

Dear dad,
 How shall I juxtapose words of reminiscences,
That will not make you shed tears of the Nile..?
I know,surely know,truly know,
That the weather there will weed out  tears and fear,
But papa,be calm,read your Bible, don't forget the psalm.

The thunder that struck that day
Is still striking, so hot,not moving,
It has broken our only shanties,
Tearing apart the veil of our wardrobe, our cupboards and even your documents !

Dear dad,
I know,surely know,truly know,
That you never killed anyone,
Not even  to hunt or hurt a  shadow,

But how shall we raise up our voices ?
We lowly peasants of the under-bridge,
Who will even listen to our plea ?
The government's soldiers ?
The corrupt politicians ?

Papa,o papa,
My hands are swinging in pain
As I try to write you an epistle !
I remember
Vividly,that black  Saturday in the month of February,
Just an hour before the National Election,
The great contest !
You bade me goodbye, promising to vote him in,
You promised to give me forty penny for my WAEC
But my anxiety and waiting were futile seeds on a  red soil

The mid night chanting, that sounds like the police siren,
Arouses and sprout out fear in me,
"Where is my father, o papa" ?
It's ten o'clock,father is not back !
I looked out through the horizon, peering at the sky,
Dared to go out

It's a day like a curfew
a democratic state of emergency,
The mighty army of ants marches on,
Soldiers dancing with happiness
  Holding my father's shirt,
          Their National flag !

"What sin has my father planted"?
The blur dreamland of an answer
  seems  to  be an illusion
" why is my father's shirt stained with blood" ?
The answer I don't know,till the moment

The thunder that struck that day
Is still striking, so hot,not moving,
The cock is still crowing,clock ticking and the calendar is getting older,
I sought to sleep,even in pain,
As I close my eyes and fell into a trance

I saw my young handsome  father
back then in his fifties,
Now a shadow of himself,a old  in his seventies,
Is this reality...?
I tried to clear my eyes from this trance,
Is this an illusion ?
a dream ?
  or reality ?

   ÒœIRIÒœIRI PRISΩΠ ! !! !!!
The large signboard stood boldly,akimbo
The prison cell seems scary,papa,
I cried out !
But he sits still watching me,dumb and lame,
He seems  not to listen
The bowl of undone beans,seems irritating !
No onions nor pepper of pity,
as my eyes could visualize it,
Kirikiri prison...! !! !!!
The large signboard stood, akimbo,
The paints that plastered the cell are pictures of the man,
my father voted for !
O papa ,why, papa why ....?

#electionscenario#
#Gspere#