Black Sun

A Poem by Seyi Ojenike

That sun that rays down and sets
That which burns,
And dries the skin from moist.
Never angered upon our harsh scorns.
Yellow and beautiful
When we met,
Has waged war upon us.
O my mother earth.
The soil on which I trample on
Has hardened her grip.
She threatens at her very tip
Weeds no longer tear at our feet
In the bush,
The skies empty,
No tear drops from the skies
Our plants have withered.
The gods have forsaken us,
We are no longer the apple
Of their eyes,
Our sacrifices hanging,
In the mid
Amidst our shame.
Our walks to revive our bond
Made lame.
And beyond our humble sacrilege,
Shady pasts push over our dark edge.