The Deaf Poem by Enikanoselu Seyi

When the market is set ablaze,
Who is the semiotician
To alert the deaf of the impending peril?
When a hundred souls are on sleep,
Who is the professional prompter
To remind the dumb of the anticipating menace?
Does a farmer need to be trained by an agrobiologist
That a good tree bears good fruits?
When a branch is unfruitful, won't it wither?

All sleep in the dietary of blood,
Licking the fingers of ignorance,
Swinging the heads of innocence,
Yelling, mouthing, fumbling, and sighing -
Yet in awareness,
Crying, grinning, mourning, and eating -
With glorious debts.

Oh! Compatriots...
Should we keep hissing in pretence?