Poem: The Prodigal

Diolu Tobechukwu Feb 12, 2016 at 03:45pm

February 12, 2016 at 03:45 pm | Lifestyle

Diolu Tobechukwu

Diolu Tobechukwu

February 12, 2016 at 03:45 pm | Lifestyle

Last August, youths of Malari village, in Konduga Local Government area of Borno state were paraded before the state governor, Kashim Shettima. The four men allegedly participated in the Boko Haram attack on villagers, killing 9 persons and displacing hundreds of civilians.
Boko Haram

Last August, youths of Malari village, in Konduga Local Government area of Borno state were paraded before the state governor, Kashim Shettima. The four men allegedly participated in the Boko Haram attack on villagers, killing 9 persons and displacing hundreds of civilians.

Observing the events in this world and the trend of corruption, I discovered that even with the best home training, along the line as we grow toward independence, other factors begin to influence our thoughts, action, and character. At this point, we tend to forget values that made us who we are, we turn prodigal and sometimes see it as enlightenment and growth. But it’s important to know that as the good fruit grows, so does the bad fruit also. The question isn’t if you’re growing, the question is, what are you growing into? We’ll be better people if we return to our roots and remember the values and culture that made us strong as a continent. Our unity, our sincerity, our faith, and our resilience….. Quit dining with pigs and find your way back home.

“Daddy!!!” he screams in excitement as he runs toward the gate…
Welcoming his dad with a smile awaiting his return, he stayed late…
With sincerity and love, falling asleep on his mother’s arm…
He’s 30 now, coldblooded and wickedly picks up his arms…
Deaf to the cries of the innocent and their scream for mercy…
He opens fire, detonates the bomb, and beheads without pity…

Little girl, didn’t know the difference between black and white…

Her glowing eyes and bright smile was just a pleasant sight…
A princess always thankful for what she had…
She turned 27, how then did it get so bad…
Like a beast she preys on anyone who isn’t in her class…
Not caring what others feel, taking pride in all that she has…

How quickly you forget your root…
As weeds grow around causing you to produce wild fruits…
The call of mama, the words of papa…
If it doesn’t make sense now, would change you never…

The pathway of greatness, characterized by a multitude of counsel…

You’ve placed in a trash can, memories which you can’t tell…
Seeing now how you’ve been reduced to a piece of cake…
Too depressed to pick up, too proud to acknowledge your mistake…

And then you observe a weakness; a shorter way out…

You prey on the helpless and seal up her mouth…
Splashing mud water on pedestrians like you were born with car keys…
Openly mocking the disabled like you’ve never had a disease…

Please, don’t tell me you had no choice or no other option…

Are you willing to pay the price or wouldn’t you rather take correction…
What happened to those good old humble years…
Seeing what you’ve become brings me to tears…
And now it seems hopeless…
As you’re not willing to learn or even lend me your ears…

Yeaaa, you’ve grown, yes, you’re advanced…

But it’s an advancing wickedness with blood on your hands…
That emptiness you feel as you lay on your bed…
How everyone seems like the enemy, even your shadow makes you scared…
Remember the soothing sound of your childhood toys…
Running naked couldn’t tell the difference between girls and boys…

Oh, how quickly you’ve advanced, how fast you’ve grown…
Remember now from whence you have fallen and come back home…
Come back to your first Love, He’s waiting by the gate…
As you come back to your senses, It’s always never too late….

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