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Poem

It is not our way
To reap from another’s sweat
It is not of the blackman’s norm
To call the breeze a storm.

You see when the elders sit
They can see far ahead of the youth
that stands atop the Iroko tree.

When you cut a tree from the forest
It is only the elders that knows its resting place.
You can have all the newest of clothes
But you can’t have as many rags as the elders.
When a child sits to eat worms
His intestines should be ready for doom.

Afterall what brought us all here,
Avarice, hatred and contempt
That we have passed on from generations
The hands that keep company of dirt
Will surely not be suiting for a friendly handshake.

The elders have grown wise with age
To know that when a policeman 
Begins to make friends with criminals
And wear the same buba with thieves
We should get ready to become megaurds overnight

You see,
When judges begin
To see nothing wrong in collecting bribes
We should know that the law wears a veil.

When young children
Are being praised by their mothers
For stealing their neighbours belongings
We shouldn’t question the day our values died.

When the elders speak
Do not silence them, 
For they-have grown wise to know
When a fast moving korope pretends to be moving slow.

We are in strange times
When men flaunt their ill-gotten wealth
In the very face of their victims.
A time when men of the law
With trust have gone to war
And those who are supposed
To be men of God-
are mischievously claiming His place.

When the elders talk
Let not your finger 
Order your lips still.
.
© Muyideen Ayinla 2021

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