The Poem Is About Fela Anikulapo Kuti, A Nigerian Activist And Afrobeat Musician. Poem by Joseph Ikhenoba

FELA
The man died.
And the skies are grey.
On pant trousers
Bare chest.
Ochre painted eyes.
Flanked by Harlem
Of women.
A luminous star
From Abeokuta,
In Africa emerged.
Graced with drums
All day, he puts his craft
To work.
From the Kuti's bloodline
A family whose mother
Carried placards and banners
Against the louts
In Nigeria politics
Before the birth of independence.
Before his concerts
Sea of spectators
Flocked his shrine
Shouting "Fela! Fela! "
With smile on their faces.
When the rasping of acoustics
Filled the air
They stamped their feet
To the rhythm of Afro-beats.
With some chanting his songs
Words for words.
He was a voice
Of coloured skin
And Lazarus on the streets.
Flogged twenty two lashes
His house burnt
His mother thrown
Out of a window
With fractured legs
By military regime
For speaking against
The freedom of caged birds.
Cyclones.
Fela!
A revolutionist caged
For twenty seasons
For speaking the truth.
By the rolling engine of fire.
But on the second day of August 1997.
He suffered from an ailment.
Undisclosed.
A virus or rasping breath?
I don't know.
But in his coffin made of glass
And polished mahogany
He lay in a pale body.
Breathless with parted lip
Shut lenses.
Fixed crossed arms like wax
And he wore a white blur.
Then faint rays of light
Forced themselves through
Iron bars.
Accompanied by putrid lilies
And grunts from people
In black veils
Bowing their heads
With tear drops.
But I write his name
Among the stars.