For Nigeria

I’m thinking about children
who die at birth;
Children who never grow
to become parents.

I’m thinking about children
whose names I will never learn
to pronounce;
children who learn to sing
a dirge at dawn.

I’m thinking about abandoned children;
children whose words are chaste, holy
like a temple, like an altar;
children who do not know why
they see blood on the streets.

I’m thinking about the images
of children that clump my head:
their postures, their laughter,
their bodies buried like wastes
in those wooden coffins.

I’m thinking about children who
die in the bomb blasts; children
who will never pray for this country.

(This beautiful poem was written by my good friend Rasaq Malik Gbolahan- a fine poet and writer. I first came across it here:

Author: ifeadedeji

I am a graduate student in African Studies at the Center for International Studies, Ohio University where I work as a research assistant and Editor of Africa@OHIO Blog. I hold a bachelors in political science, and use this space as a container of my thoughts.

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