i have a message// to give to all, who are captured//
by grief – like the artifacts captured in Britain// exiled
to a museum unknown to them//- to fill his basket
with your tears.

i have a message// to give to the critics, that saw grief
as a fanatical theory// of writers, to acclaimed respect
from magazines/competitions/congregation// without
feeling its claws. who saw it as a maniacal exposure
of fake tears.

i cast a lobe of me// in this poem// stringing the tune of
grief// on my unbranded organ.// crescendo of cacophony.//

yesterday, a building in Ikoyi slumped// a thousand souls
buried without an elegy.// nor a good-kiss goodbye to their
kinsmen.// a man, bulrush, swam out without a goosebumps.
// the media heard it & hung it on their bumf.// the government
heard it & ceremonially whipped tears from their brows.//
the people heard it & emoji sad reactions on social media.

today, a secular tavern twirled in fire.// a teacher risks her leg
for the children, gathering under her wings like hen.// a
piece of chalk red on her thigh// scavenged her toes.

tomorrow, the headlines might carry another banner//
gurgling from the radio.//everyday, grief visits everyone
with its mat. beware// & wave a farrago in your heart.

About the Poet

Olayioye Paul Bamidele is a Plateau-based writer and a student of mass communication. He writes poems, plays, essays, and fiction. Most of his works center on human rights and the fight against child abuse. He appeared in Chinua Achebe Anthology and Threpo Poem Anthology. His works have appeared or forthcoming in SpillWord, Lunaris, Terror House, Inverse Journal, Afreecan, Fiery Scribe Review, Artslounge, and elsewhere