Mother Knows That Poem by Michael Eziudo

If Biafra goes
How would the middle belt region stand
What mouth would they use to say Ai or Nay
And their blood bank would it still have some fluids left
And their tears ever stop to flow
And their wailing and their lamentations what hearts would bear

If Biafra goes
What brains would build the economy
And sustain the posts that this pillar holds
What streams would wheel the revenue by the technical know-how
The dynamics of economics are upon her crown
And her sons and daughters lead the willing horse
In all willingness that falls to a fault
And her name in the books for books would be erased
And from her too would be taken
The inventions and calculations, chalks and art
And even the milk and honey Biafra's Chi had given her that lies in her bossom

If Biafra goes
What would she leave with her mother
Who knows all about posts and nothing about positioning
Who lives by politics but can't be the desired leader
Who wants loyalty but knows only to get it by bully
Who wants her heaven worshipped but commands conversion by bloodshed
One that gets you nodding the ground by loaded riffle held up your butt
Would she be left with the wisdom that never was undressed from and only scrumbs are shown her
If famine is a nation's visitor she would befriend her soon

If Biafra goes
Systems failing would become a common sight
Beauties and strength would elude her mother
Even when she would truly be required to use the muscles she had long flexed
To make life worth living by those blades that she had used to exfoliate the joys of Biafra
When those hoes she had collected for the leading of her meat past her many farms

If Biafra goes
Her many good brains would go along and leave her mother without
Her many machines would follow and leave her mother crude
Her many prides would go and leave her mother with no charisma
Her many wine trees would be untapped for lack of know-how
And the many heights they'd climbed would come touching the ground

Threats come ringing but the sheep is never perturbed
Mother often tries stepping on the lion's tail but she watches like a toothless dog
Mother fails to know that to keep the damsel dancing
Melodious sounds should flow from her tomtom
That this toothless dog would charge like the lion that she is when her nerve is touched

Mother tries to scare her away with heated bullets
When she without fierceness makes her demand
That it be granted in peace that in time the oil that flows from her head would reach mother too
But mother hates to come to terms with the fact and is failing to hid to it
O, because mother knows
That if Biafra goes she won't survive