Long Shadow Poem by *Tony Cemaluk Egbuonu

Just 41.
Short life.
Long shadow.

1933 — the year truth entered.
Not with a crown,
but with a spine.
Not with noise,
but with weight.

Warri knew his hands first — carpenter.
Nassarawa knew his feet — he combed the land
for farm produce, market to market.
Ayalagu, Gwulugwuii, Shandan, Lafia,
Onitsha, Umuoji, Ojoto knew him.
Market knew his yes meant yes.
Kindred knew his no meant no.
Palace, all knew his voice:
'If the palace speaks justice...'
Justice or never.
Truth for life.

1974 — the year the body went home, unannounced.
41 harmattans.
41 harvests.
41 years of standing where others sat.

They thought the shadow would shrink.
They thought the name would thin.
But truth does not die with breath.
Principle does not bury with bone.

Today,52 years after,
his spirit as shadow, still hovers,
still covers, still shades
through Cemaluk, Egbuonu,
the kindred, the village, the town, and
still stretches across the globe —
in poems, in pages,
in a son who writes, who documents, who immortalizes:

Just 41.
Short life.
Long shadow.
King over Truth.