Your heart is abode to dark secrets.
Like grass watered by fertilizer
That lost its green hue because
It was promised unfulfilled nutrients
and bright days; daylight saving time—
named in order not to offend dawn.
Our mind is abode to dark secrets.
Even hope held by dawn
Left disillusioned souls everywhere.
Even the sun —bright and happy,
is equally losing its appeal.
Do we still carry our minds like a bag?
Our world is an abode to dark secrets.
Nations of people by the millions
harbor what they loathe and wish.
The black skyscrapers of capitals
with lights stuttered in their windows.
What lies along the empty beach?
Each day is an abode to dark secrets.
With the confidence of the rainmaker
who promised rain because
the heavens hung water vapors,
Look how he holds up now
without suitors and in-laws.
Chris Ulasi is on the Editorial Board of The West African Pilot News. He contributes stories about culture and tradition, elite politics, ethnicity and national integration, civil society, and social movement. He is a university professor, community builder, poet, film producer, recording the emergent Nollywood cultural history through film.
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