A Scrpit

My life is like script Conscripted to dance to the rhythms of distortions As a clown of western audience, I fool around, monologuing before my protagonists A cast of extortionists party on my identity A half devil, a half human, so I am in their volumes A victim of their intellectuals’ metaphor A paradox I am in the comity of decisions At the mercy of their conference table my fate is tabled My dialect forgotten, my humanity question My tongue tamed and trained to their dialects In the confluence of their dialects I grope Who am I? A script or, a history. awoh awoh