"AN OLD WORD FOR YESTERDAY" — Pawners Paper

Nights we illuminated The designated scars on our wrinkled skin With the luminous fire kindled By the torn pages of scripts of our envisaged dreams.

AN OLD WORD FOR YESTERDAY

Nights we illuminated

The designated scars on our wrinkled skin

With the luminous fire kindled

By the torn pages of scripts of our envisaged dreams.

Under the burning gaze of the sun, daily

We slunk along the gory path of our past

To replay the grievous sounds of gongs and drums

Slashing through the booms of maniac guns

That deafened ears against the sound of new laughter

And muted the wailing, cries, and pleads

Of seers who last night, stoned and cheated death once

With a jackpot hit in a seamy game of cards.

We rode beyond the restless heart of the world

That bore scads of putrefy memories of men we once were

Like dust blown into the cold grasp of harmattan

By the pathetic wind who begot no honor

But have we?

Our slangs and chants were buried in shattered pieces

In our battered tongues and silenced

By the grieves that enslaved our voices.

If tears were to be written words on our raddled faces

Rolling down watery alphabets of our regrets

Would we have someone to tell the old tale?

Our nights are haunted by the silence from mounted graves

While our days are tormented by the

Chirps of birds and fists of pestles on cracked mortars

Turned into the clash of machetes and booms

Of molesting guns. Of how do we?

That we died a death before our death in the past?

That we're drained of tears and emptied of emotions?

That our plights are stained with the sweat of valour?

That we withheld the clamouring voices

For the old word for yesterday?

Written by: Adedeji Raphael

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