Biafra
This poem won first place in the 2023 Spark! Youth Poetry Competition at the Las Vegas Book Festival.
By Laura Momoh
You wore that flag with pride and honor
Half of a yellow sun was the ornament of your hope
Addicted to the fight for freedom, you lay broken
You understood the level of your weakness
But you had power in your pain
What happened in 1966 was the ultimatum
Give us our freedom or perish!
Recognize our worth or we’ll leave this toxic relationship you call democracy
After the coup, our bloodshed fueled the fire
Our revolt overpowered your biases of us as weaklingsOjukwu saw the glory and felt unashamed
But what we see now is the starving children
Grinding the ground as the grief of kwashiorkor suffocated them
You told yourself lies to hide the truth
That death was around the corner
1970 confirmed your worry when your Beloved fled to Cote-de-Ivore
You sat as a wet child without morals
Naked and ashamed of your thin body
Gunfire sealed your fate to a bitter loss
You lost but they call it no victor, none vanquished
When does this sun meet its half?
Did the story have to end with surrender but no compromise?
We roam the streets as ventriloquists being played by our emotions
We’ve disrupted systems of government that governed us like sadists
We swallowed our pride yet we gave up what sustained us
A brighter future
A heavier weight
A rounder belly
A blood-soaked sun
Never rising on us, but falling where our ancestors lie
Shaking their heads with relief yet biting their tongues to end this nightmare we called rebellion
We knew that our world would forever change
Yet we look to our sun to solidify the future we never gained