Ode To Biafra Poem by Victor Okechukwu Anyaegbuna

Even the grasses would fight
but the last man had stronger veins.
No power in black Africa can subdue Biafra
But starvation did!
Where is his power, what his colour?
How many black dead make one missing white?
Mathematicians yet have no answer.

History cannot deny, nor posterity discount
this sensational legend
that was when it were
nipped in the bud of its greatness
as its colours began to unfold,
in Ahiara village,
in the depth of concussions.

Land of the rising sun
the love-net of creativity;
why are you still in the shadows?
Grinning and grinding your molars.
Nigeria dreads you from even name to memory.

But who can keep his spirit in the dust?
Not even this once great Biafra.
Yet no one cares,
the legacy she left behind;
the potentials that stunned the world
and would make a great nation mighty.
Had Europe half Nigeria’s chance
E’en America and Soviet Russia
would threaten no more.

(1979. Lagos.)