Footprints of Our Ancestors

Art by Davida Enara via Instagram

Footprints of Our Ancestors || Oluwafemi Ojosu

In the divine wisdom of elders
who have seen it all,
like uncouth teenagers
they say we are rambunctious.
But of their geriatric bodies
fit only to be displayed in museums
we dare not cast aspersions.
Earthquakes under our oceans of hope
they tend to create.
Such the footprints of our ancestors…
Making a wondrous mess of things.

Of their madness,
quite unlike Shakespeare’s Hamlet,
it lacks a given method.

Like Soyinka’s bandufu,
into thin air
our Atlantic reservoirs
they make disappear…
Of such charades I tell you,
therein lies their wondrous majesty.
An art much perfected
through executive recklessness and sleazy misrule.

Statesmen so elderly, doctorates so possessing,
from Zia they come with love
licensed to go on and on
the webs of their facade spinning.

I know of the locutions of old men,
how they point their fingers
without really pointing.
The more you look,
the less you see
but that which is left unsaid
is the most profoundly eloquent.

A blessing or a lesson?
I truly cannot tell.
But a new generation has emerged
and our voices scream of change.
Armed with the fire of rebellion,
maybe, just maybe…
That change is going to come…

Art by Davida Enara via Instagram

For my Generation: A Requiem || Oluwafem

My Generation:
termed leaders of tomorrow,
but so hard had we been ignored
we doubted our very existence.
Leaders of tomorrow
on whom the spotlight shone…
Once almost, we started a revolution
but teased with their false hopes,
we refused to give it a shot
thinking we had a light ahead.

A generation by the sages touted
a resounding impact to make
but sadly have we become
mere points in infinity
lacking in voice, direction and identity.
A generation of misunderstood youths
who dared not even dream,
it is therefore little wonder
how far beneath
had we been relegated.

In their infinite wisdom,
they tell us to tread in their footsteps
for we need as they say
someone to look up to
but why should it be them?
They tell us to reach for the stars
and be all that we can
but still, our stars remain dust laden
and we lollygag without direction.

Mine they say is a sceptical generation,
theirs I say is lost in translation.
So lost, that in their infinite wisdom
corruption they mix with divine blessing.
We tried to pay homage
but they overcharged.
Fuelled by their avaricious desires,
they deny us room for existence.
A generation of youths
who dared not dream…
had they but listened to our voices…


Oluwafemi Ojosu is a Nigerian writer and Legal Practitioner whose curiosity presumably killed the proverbial cat. His writing has appeared in The Naked Convos, Punocracy, Kurating and elsewhere. When he’s not positing on how to make Nigeria great again, you will find him on twitter ranting @femiojosu. He writes from Ibadan, Nigeria.

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