The sole emperor today takes his siesta, like me, and like you. He does not think of Resurrection- he holds it in his right hand, and it is truth and eternity.
— Darwish.
In my country, we grow wings with our dreams as they are only growing us into our deaths,
whether by policies, politics or the police
Every protest that we watch on the TV is met with live bullets.
How else should we not define ourselves, if after our encounter we still trace them within us?
Where we gladly read from the Holy Scripture: “It is written; thou shall not bow to any graven image.”
So we held our faith before the world’s gaze, with our sealed hearts to sheol’s grips.
With every street a speaker shouting: “Holy. Holy. Holy is the son and the father.”
But we never knew what is the difference between holy and those who seek him in spirit.
As everything we do, we must first bow to the graven image called colony of a crown.
Or the chants of industrialization we frown at,
but our feet are swift to the man calling us ass-hole.
During every election; we must go to Chatham House, full of gods & goddesses.
Who choose another puppetee to mount on the thrones that we keep worshipping.
Still, the golden calf wants to make us know that; the holy book is for him first before us –
And still, we make no trace of colonies, elections, from them as they make and mend their choices.
John Chinaka Onyeche is a Nigerian writer of colour (BIPOC) and historian from Etche in Rivers State. A graduate of history and diplomatic studies. He is dedicated to ensuring that the full scope of history is accurately represented. His writing can be found in various journals, including; Charles University, Prague, Ebedi Review, Overtly Lit, Middlebury Institute of International Studies, McNeese University, Pier Review University of Brighton, Tilted House Journal, Akewi Magazine, and Brittle Paper. Connect with him on Twitter @Apostlejohnchin or https://linker.ee/RememberAjc