Salt

I quickened to taste,

Alas, thou has gone sour

I took my parchment in haste,

And lay to the foot of those in power

Where is our salt?

The marrow of our clan,

The treasure we never bought,

The oil of our land;

Why thou sweetened not?

Where is thy light?

The sect of the Capital has eaten thee raw;

They carted them all in a daylight,

Our salt, our today

The colonials depleted thee to a pint,

None to use for our baby on born-days,

The democrats now buried all in their pits;

Our salt, our future

Give us some we are mal-nourished

Let us taste their source before rapture,

Show me thy pillar, my land seek thee to flourish,

Our children were promised to be crowned,

But the elders never left the throne,

Those  the salt chooses are drowned;

The Elders install theirs and only their own,

The salt of my land where hath thou?

Thou the children of my clan,

Spring forth and come to us now,

Take thy glory and trample their plans

O’ salt please regain thy essence,

Let thy icicles pierce thine enemies,

Spring forth and shew thy presence,

Like worms, let them melt to thy salt

(Poem: “Salt” by Olorunleke Odubote)