Strange Malady in the Wings of Politics

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As the echo of the battle fades away
into the distance like a rumbling thunder
a palpable silence descended upon the battle
field and the remnants gazed about in wonder
None could fathom the storm that has passed
through the state and plunged it into a political blunder

In the pervading eerie silence upon the
battlefield came the sound of an anguished cry;
a mother has lost a soul, a loved one
in the melee: yet she had not a stake or pride
Could anyone feel her pain and sorrow when
this rumblings and shakes have ceased?

What joy is it to the soul lost in this madness?
It fades away like a shadow dissolving at the
fading of a light, leaving in its wake a gloom desolation;
even as the sound of the Victor and the Vanquished
ring out rapturously in the outer Courtyard
The muted groans of loved ones could be heard,
weeping for their lost son.

The election has come and gone
yet the psychic of the Rivers man
has been bruised and battered
His cherished warmness and oneness
tossed overboard by a strange malady
in the wings of politics, that has cast him in the
mold of a fiendish, bloodthirsty barbarian.

Oh! Where is the Rivers man I once knew?
Who adorned the Highways in his flamboyant attires?
Dancing in the waterways in his war canoes
Who stood firmly shoulder to shoulder against the
Oppressor man

Stretch out your hand through this political maze
to your brother and say, Alua, Ibote, nuah, Ibialawe
Disdaining this distorting apprehension with a cherished smile