Post by Otokini Harry Batubo (@HarryDaPoetivist)

the Bamboos

They will come
with agbada full of lies,
tongues dipped in oil and anthem.
Smiling like campaign flyers in the rainy season.

They thought we were grass.
But we
We were bamboo.

Not loud,
but watching.
Not still,
but rooted.

They built castles with decrees,
paved potholes with promises,
and called it progress.
We called it perfumed decay.

They mistook our bending
for weakness
not knowing storms
make us wiser...

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