Dancing In Circles Poem by Tobi Oyesomi

DANCING IN CIRCLES
A thousand miles covered, from Past
to Present. Unceasing passage of time, days
growing old. Journeying towards our Canaan
through the pebbly, bewhiskered forest;
the indescribables experienced.

From the white-skinned, emanating orders,
at first. The heralding Lords of Her Royal Highness,
the Queen. The legitimately enthroned short-lived,
matcheted by the tigerish khaki-clothed junta
and bathed in the pool of their own blood. For over
three decades, baton moved from Generals to Generals,
adorning mouths with padlocks, like slaves in sugarcane
plantation. The mouth lost his speech; the pen lost his ink;
the daredevils revolted to their own peril. Oh, countless
were the mighties lost.

Egypt, we claimed to have departed, but Canaan
not in sight. We are thousand miles forward,
thousand miles backwards. We beat the Bata of
corruption, nepotism and favouritism; sing the Yahooze of
bigotry, religiousity and tribalism; dance to the Skelewu
of divisionism and pseudo-federalism.

From colonisation to servitude, to servility, to thraldom
Here we were, here we still are. Our rickety legs
make a thousand steps, but neither to North nor South;
just dancing in circles, doing 'Who's in the Garden'.