In memory of Chinua Achebe
Steve Orji Saturday, August 31st, 2013
By Steve Orji
Enchanted eyes see through shades of after dark,
To spot ripened fruits on withered trees,
Gifted eyes indeed could tell graves of trampled honour,
And cruel foots that stood in their places,
Only eyes dyed deep in furnace of ancient wisdom,
Stare deep and long with halo of a messenger,
Unraveling puzzles etched on tokens of wrinkled histories,
Shedding lights on scathing marks long borne on back of muted justice,
And plundered treasures stowed away in vaults of sublimating memories,
But the night broke the grit of the warrior,
Stole the voice of the drum beats,
Brave eyes turn weary from strained gazes,
And legs on errand senile,
Hands lurched in frozen scabbard,
Slowly, those staring eyes flutters in futile acquiesce with steps of approaching night,
Its burning white patch throws sturdy beams on the dark, worn-out thoroughfare,
Before it finally closed in silent conquest.
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