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THE VOICELESS.


Under the oak tree we lay awake waiting for the coming messiah

Waiting for the good time of his government

We are tormented and suppressed all day long with no cause.

And our body bore our pains

Men of agony, the voiceless.

Trapped in the strange land of misery, 

Hope against hope for the messiah to emerge

Spirit of our ancestors hunt us, 

Because they thirst for blood; 

Of which blood shall we use when cowries for goat could be found? 

Springs ceased in our entries and, the oceans howl in despair to our presence.

 

The voiceless men, rejected and abandoned

Entangled in the misery of the leaders, 

Echoes of mercy heard in the vacuum and, 

Songs of sorrow sang by the birds in their response to our sufferings

We are cheated with no access to talk and the society hear us not rather they exploit our efforts.

Men of Nkporo became worthless to them.

 What could be our weapon of war? 

We are killed all day long and, our stomach spoke harshly to us.

Our eyes very dime; night and day.

And we succumb to their threats, voiceless men of nkporo.

Born without a silver spoon but wisdom in the head.

Wisdom never used to impart to their offsprings.

 

 

 

 Our egos dashed out with the winds and our wives exploited by the rich.

Our houses taken away with strong will and our children enslaved in the darkness

Who shall speak for us all, the voiced? 

The coming messiah assured us mercy but who knows his coming? 

The animals on the flying chairs laughed at us.

Perhaps, they know the future.

Maybe they have spoken with the messiah against us.

 

I know, overly thrilled as I was that I would not call. Their works had done more than enough.

In the city, our kinds are seen roaming about in nakedness

Humiliated and battered.

But I wear courage like a shield to speak against discrimination.

As long as there is life, they believed in hope in days to come.

It shall be well.

Can you see how she runs? 

Running to the lion’s den.

What has she done?  Nothing but spoke her mind.

Court holds her guilty, guilty of treachery and outspoken.

It embodied me not to find my voice, but to speak in voice I already had.

 

 

We pray for the messiah’s time

Time of peace and freedom, 

When things shall be well again with us

And our kind shall be heard in high voices

Our children shall also be free from the sneer of the Fowler

And our wife shall know their offspring and husbands

 Those who exploit us shall be punished upon their throne.

Mercy shall not prevail because they have tortured us so much.

(JOHN CHIZOBA VINCENT)
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