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THE BURNING CIRCLE









At the beginning; it was the cleaving of twain to become one
However; in our dispensation; it’s the fixing of twain to become none
How much has the stream that supplies our enormous river become adulterated, polluted?
Maybe some calculator could ascertain, and give us the required statements


The circle of our rising sun; the source of our beaming joy
Has now become a mapped out space for a hefty punch
Trust; once sat at the middle, but it’s now playing second fiddle
At the lapping of baby Lola by uncle Dola; emerges the optic nerve of surveillance as crab sleeping with one eye

Our love used to be pure; till some cold water poured
Oh our Circle of dancing steps, at the shyness and brightness of the evening star
I visited thy centre, calling out on the brethren; but no one to answer
Solitude; amongst the multitude


In our dispensation; our Circle of togetherness has turned angles of Loneliness
At home, we find succour in gadgets; when together: we could have smiled and acted some playlet



I held a microscope to search for those spaces in our circles; where we inculcated moral values
Behold; as void as emptiness; as bald as a skinny head.
Our encumbrances; the latest uprising gist and flirts; the latest spot for meat and dress
The proverbs that put the child right has been mixed with some dirt; diluted, even absent


Our Circle; the origin of fine gold and masterful talents
The arena that refines with hot coal; suddenly became cold
The Academy of Stars; has steadily grown nonchalant
The Circle of Standards has embraced the haphazard

Entry to the Circle has become manipulated; Matchmaking
The entire process like never before; devoid of being painstaking


How long shall we bemoan this terrible fate?
How much filth shall the river collect from this stream?
My question; who lit the circle on fire?
No one’s coming near again; all are running helter – skelter!



Bolaji Olaniba (2018)

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