Baba Poem by Nkwain Stephen

Oh Baba!
I am still listening
Tell me another story
This time, speak from a different script
I am too tired to withstand the old cursed script
My pains are as old as the old script
The irreverent script of my frustration must die
For our agony grows as the script grows older
Each time a line is recited, we leave our abodes
We gather somewhere not to sip wine
We gather to dig graves and preside over mass send-off
It was never part of agenda to bath with our tears-
But look at us now!