The Finishers Of Our Heritage Poem by Tony Adah

Thieves wore garland
And sat on the high table
In an occasion of looting my country
Where huge elephants stride;
Those who till the soil
And who toil before the sun
And before the fire;
The concretes, before the wood
And the saw;
Before anvil and hammer
In copious sweat
Remain standing, watching and huddled
Like slaves.
On the last day
Which is any other day;
The heavens of the thieves
Shall be like Kirikiri
And bugs will be their companions
In a maximum security abode
Their benediction will come at dusk
Of crimson blood
And the joy sown in their hearts
Will turn into sorrow
For they have walked in graceless strut
To the abyss of shame
Where haste leads them home.
Already the sky rumbles
And great winds stir up storms
From the desert of our land
He that causes the storms
The finisher of our heritage
Is he free from the stains
Of the same palm oil?