A feast of a thousand lords
And many more wards
For a sagely compatriot,
Wordlord and chief of our tribe.
For one who has loomed larger than his frame of flesh.
The screen by which the world grasps the Nigerian travails
And by whom the Nigerian dream is made manifest.
The x-ray who no longer at ease was
When the surgeons were draining the patient.
He spits out the bones and dreads not
The icy retort and the accompanying slap.
The shoot that challenged the brutal machete
Swishing through the field when the grass is a-slumber.
This is no Christmas in Biafra
Tis a congregational mass in Nsukka.