By Niyi Osundare
You drove a sword through Friendship’s heart
Dumped Loyalty in an unmarked grave
And seized the throne with your blood-encrusted hands
And darkness fell upon the land
Roadsides reeked with the stench of murdered voices
The Burkinabe danfa shriveled into a pall
You broadened your brief in the network of other tyrants
Your bloodline thick like a bastard plague
Practiced puppeteers extolled your dance
Fixed your steps to the beat of their vassal drum
As they pledged all power, all privilege
To the longevity of your rule
But you saw Sankara
In the air you breathed
In the water which whetted your thirst
In the interrogating mirror of the Burkinabe eye
You saw Sankara
In the rainbow which transgressed
The darkness of your sky
In every page of your trembling Bible
You are the three-penny coin
Tossed in the wind in the cannibal
Game of dispossessing masters
The laughing jackass
Who held down his brood
For the fury of the alien whip
Common house rat
Who feigned the lineage of lions
Until History counted his claws
And uncovered a missing fire
An angry wind blew; your phantom mane
Rolled deviously down your shortening neck
(Continued next Sunday)
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