waste

I have seen dirty water in gutters
Not knowing, not asking what it washed
To make it dirty; or
Whether it ever washed anything.




I have seen trees blown down by storms
And have sometimes walked on them
Not wondering whether they ever sheltered
Or have leaves for herbal cures.

I have seen heads hang in jail's
Without daring to ask
How steel doors expiate "sins"
Or if tall walls convert "sinners".

But when I see dead flowers
In dust-bins or on street corners
I wonder if they died for love
Or if they are a wreath on love.

And when I see old bridal mats
Worm-eaten on dung heaps,
I wonder if they died for love.
Or if they are a wreath on love.

And when I see old bridal mats
Worm-eaten on dung heaps,
I wonder if the children have grown
If they too have lied on bridal mats
Or whether the mats got there because
Birth-blood refused to spill on them.






                             Femi Fatoba