By Mustapha Abubakar Sadiq
Father, what grave shall hold you?
Is your bone not made of Ivory?
Does Giwa fall this easy?
Is death not arrogant, for having her fill?
Have you not defy death to be hero,
when strangers took your land, replaced
your name with hunger, took you away
for three thousand five hundred and twenty sunsets.
Did you not return,
a priest, spreading the gospel of being black,
of how modern civilization was built on blackness.
has death not denied you of martyrdom
Are you not Mugabe, son of Rhodesia
elephant of Africa, conqueror of imperialism.
I would have sent you flowers Mugabe
but, your ways are not of the white
I will drink the earth in palm wine and
break kolanuts to appease the spirits of your fathers
these spirits whom will welcome you home.