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The Cost Of Defeat 2 (The Complex; from the lost war.) From upland slopes to running streams, A shared tongue flows through ancient dreams. In Oyigbo, Etche, Omuma’s land, And Ikwerre’s soil, the roots expand. The names they speak, the songs they share, The deep-set customs woven there, All trace a thread of blood and heart To the Igbo plains from which they start. Yet history turned a heavy page, When wartime came with fire and rage. The year of sixty-seven drew New borders where the rivers blew, And politics, with subtle art, Began to tear the names apart. For safety in a wounded state, And survival in a changing fate, Some chose a distinct path to tread, Reclaiming paths where waters led. Now modern days bring dual sight, Beneath the soft Deltaic light. While some embrace the lineage grand That ties them to the heartland’s sand, Still others claim a separate name, A different dawn, a different flame, A fluid, Elemchi doctored complex history. The greed that make you betray and deny your history Shaped by the creek liquid, and mangrove tree, When you betray your own, for gains, you are free This, a typical but hidden consequences to the loser All are vanquished, none indeed a victor but loser(s A balkanized nation is no environment for peace Such Elemchi complex has a record in history keys

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