Lend me your listening ears O’ people of mine,

That I may whisper the ancient words,

That I fed your forefathers,

So that you may be a Voice.

You are the land of a great people,

The land of the rising and the setting sun.

A land that overflows,

With the goodness that I have given.

Do not dance naked to the beat of a drum,

That goes thrumming in the dark of the night;

Lest you dance the dance of the dead.

Do not chase the fly senselessly,

Lest you enter the grave with it.

Do not join the madman in the market,

To nod at his music,

Hence, you know not who beats his drum for him.

Do not listen to the ramblings of depraved men,

When you cannot decipher their wisdom or mental health.

Shall you forget the directions your forebears gave you;

In pursuance of the Golden Fleece that only misleads?

Your truths and values, you’ve thrown to the winds.

Scattered like a flock of birds, 

Pursued by the booming sound of wealth.

Caution, I implore, lest you cut the cord;

Thus, you shall reap only seeds of discord.

You grasp with greed, You grapple with misdeeds,

Robbing yourselves blind of all that is right.

Lend me your ears O’ people  of mine.

That you may hear my Voice,

As I whisper to you in the blowing wind. 

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha
Voice, The Daily Post

Image credit: Pixabay