Oh! My Eniaba

Tears in my eyes,

The blood of my own,

Lies unseen, unnoticed,

On that Rumuola/Rumuokwuta road,

Little I was,

Unknown I had lost a pivotal valueable,

A friend,

My sister,

My lover,

Eniaba,

Fool-hardy money-counting-while-driving-taxi-driver,

Dark skinned like dirt,

With naira notes,

Dirty and dog-eared in his hands,

Sweat; oooh! Disgusting!!!

Dripping from the pores on his face,

His face scar-studded like a man,

Who just got out of a fight with a Tiger,

Cruised with my beloved,

Under that rickety white-and-blue carton,

Oh! My Mother,

My head was cut,

My own blood,

Dance-strolling down my cheek,

But my mom was hurt,

And my sister was gone; Eniaba,

My dad distabilized,

My siblings disheartened,

I weep for this country,

For the Nigerian police; I cry,

And our justice system; I mourn,

For free Mr. Dark-skin was let loose,

But my mom was hurt and my Eniaba lost and gone,

But I swear; not for ever,

For there are tears,

From deep within my eyes,

Only for my beloved,

My sister,

Oh! My Eniaba,

The loss of a pivot.