The dead pity the
aimless, meaningless toil of the living
Appalled at the
fickleness of it all, This living…
The living weep for
the dead, cry at their leaving
‘Oku n sunkun oku, akawo
leri n sunkun ara won’
The old pity the
young, at their toil, reminiscing
In the days of old it
wasn’t easy, even now it isn’t easy
The rich pity the poor
for the obvious reasons
The poor return the
‘kindness,’ pray for the rich
And against contacting
their diseases
‘k’eledua ma fi aisan
olowo se wa o’
The married pity the
unmarried, wishing them happily married
The unmarried look in
at the married and wish they (the married) were indeed happily married
The employed pity the
jobless…
Pray they never see
the kind of hell they cross e’eryday
The jobless pity those
in sub-service camps…after all that dust and to still come to naught?
Those in turn look to
Aluta’s children and manage to stir their heads at them
Pity, if only they
knew…
Downwards the pity
descends, from Aluta’s children to Jamb’s children
While those with
children empathize with the barren
Those without silently
pray not to have troublesome children
3 million sperm cells
keep coursing nonetheless
Keeping a date with
the egg their cause
That lucky one keeping
all others off their course
Pity, the only gift it
gives for their ‘loss’
And the pity party
starts all over again
From birth to death…
