My Prayer Poem by Babalola Augustine Adeola

Turn on the tap of creativity,
Open the well of wisdom,
Let me feel the flow.

Engrave our heart OLODUMARE.
Excavate our heart and exhume it of evil.
Cure us of guilt
And deliver us up to our inner man
The prosecutor,
that wanting he may find us not.
That our land may feel the new flow of freshness
Our heart onenss

Take our mother to SOKOTI ALAGBEDE ORUN
to melt and beat her again.
To the house of the potter for re-molding,
for her beauty has faded with the nights.

Destroy finally the ADINGBARANKU
who sat atop stirring the wheel.
The face with many hands
the constant guest at our four year festival
who only changes his mask
and let PA MAKU die finally
as one day KOKUMO will have to die.

They have ate the fruit our fore fathers sowed with their blood
making their labour dance AZONTO and ETINGI in the valley of vain
refusing to replant.

OLODUMARE!
You have watched long enough.
Please, put an end to this night show of shame.
OGBEJA KERU O B'ONIJA arise
For today I call on behalf of my brothers

Cure us of the epilepsy that always disgrace us at the market square.
That our fathers infected us with
Erase our path from theirs.
Let us live as orphans in their life time.
Sprinkle their blood in the air and let it wet the road.
If they refuse AGBEJE leaves on their hands

But father!
Before you accept my oblation and drive my request home,
Cure us of our inheritance
For our heart harbors more darkness than theirs.
We have not just learnt the trade,
Improvement we have brought to it.
Cure us first before you cure our land.
For all these I pray.