On Every Street Under the Sun

- ––Dr Gomba teaches literature and creative writing at the University of Port Harcourt

On every street under the sun, Time has scrawled its gore on your face

Although you wear a drape of fog And you swear you

Are not the ugliest of massacres. That is perhaps true.

And the one choice is to love you. So teach me how to love a massacre;

A love song is burning on my lips. Teach me how to love you

As you drown your stars In a tide of ochre,

As you strew their limbs on scarlet streets. Teach me to love you, dear country,

Before the love song wilts on my lips, Before I lose the lover’s fire in my groin,

Before my heart turns a heap of ash. -Obari Gomba

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