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Saturday 19 November 2016



By Orji Lois Ezinne
For Family Writers

I can't wait to see the rising sun,
which warm and make me sing;
Her beauty is incomparable,
that made foes hate;
Her shape is that of an orange,
soo succulent to lick;
Her sparkling yellowish colour
illuminates my parlour.

This rising sun is biafra
which i will not refrain:
it rises from the east,
and sets at the west.
You recall the three wise men?
Where did they come from?
I can't wait to see the rising sun,
which beauty is ever true.

She shines all day
to dry my hay
for roofing of my house,
what gift shall I offer thee?
as poor as I am;

They wedge war aganist her-
the babylonians,
to take her rightful place,
But ABIAMA sent his son,
fighting gallantly
with the sword of truth,
she was restored
and never for once defeated-
When it shall finally surface,
all men will be in awe.
They will bow in obesience
They shall sing and dine
for such a sight to see,

But those who prayed and fasted
for the sun to rise no more
will be thrown abode in the abyss
where teeth gnashing abounds,
For those who undervalue
the rising of the sun,
she will smite without mercy,
till they prostrate before her.

All those who died for the sun
will forever be recalled.
Those laid their precious lives down
will have their name written in sands of time,
history will never forget,
for such a wounderful trait
they posses for her sake.

That the sun,
of course, will not heed a man’s insults,
and orders is tacitly acknowledged;
It will continue on its way each day,
and one cannot wink it out of existence.

There is nothing that the poet can do
to change the movements of the sun
or the coming of the day,
no matter how clever his comparisons.
From his perspective,
the whole world is right there with him,
yet he knows that his perspective is limited.

This conceit of railing against the Sun,
and denying the reality of the world,
It can be imagined that here he is speaking more to himself,
realizing that the time he has with his lover,
is more important to him
than anything else at this moment,
even while the spiritual meaning of the struggle,
extends to the sun’s relatively weak power;
compared with the cosmic forces of the divine.

The rising of the sun
gives life to the lifeless,
the sparkling of her beauty
glitters in the heart of the slumbering beings;

Her speeding burning lights
shall wipe out the diseased eclipse
trying to stop her from shining.

This light will shine,
and liberate all that is suppressed,
because the Sun is unquenchable.

Edited by Paul Ihechi Alagba
For Family Writers

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