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A Dying Country

By Odimegwu Onwumere
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He celebrated his Independence Day in the muddy road adorned in Green White Green.

His was an expression of lost hope and pain, and the pleasure of remembering this day
had been taken from many citizens
because what was left to remember was grieve.

They said it was fault of stars that
we couldn't enjoy lost memory of
countless promises that were killed,
countless wounds they opened.

We are living in houses built with fear,
where we heal in opening sores.

Many have bled from worries to their passage
and we feel emptiness in our soul,
searching history books with grinning faces and soul in its appalling state.

This country has become a genius of sadness,
breeding discomfitures in their infinite spectrum
and everything is illuminated in grieve.

We are in tears but not all can see it, but
we are tearing our hearts inlieu of our clothes,
we are wailing in our hearts, inlieu of wailing
in the streets.

A country we love is dying, and
the fragrance she once wore
is fading to accumulate the nostrils
that once felt her.

And for our love,
grief has become our pay back.

ODIMEGWU ONWUMERE
Oct. 2 2020.