History Poem by Oladosu Michael

Birds wailing on an oak tree.
Gentle winds blowing,
Leaves dancing to the rhythm of the wind.
A greybeard leaning to the Oak tree.
Seated in his face - an archeologist
under the tall tree, wanting to gather information of the past.

The old man breaks kolanut
and start ranting
"The cracked mud house
will show you
if you care to see, the
stains of blood from the guns
shot over a hundred years ago
but it will say nothing.

The flowing rivers
inside the sand of it's bed
will grimly show you honors
buried over a hundred years ago
but will tell you nothing.

The caves in the mountainside
will grimly show you, if you care
the skull and crossbones
of people who sacrificed
their souls for war,
but they will tell you nothing.

Shadows of the past
would reflect in present life.
History will always find a way for itself."