I hired an aeroplane
And put my thoughts on it.
"Take us," I told the pilot
"To that place where I believe
Thoughts can develop,
Watered by imagination,
Nourished in freedom."
But the plane was hijacked
And taken to a place
Where nothing grew but weeds.
My thoughts strove ever so bravely
To grow among the weeds,
But they were choked to death,
The weeds choked them, My God!
Now I'm without my thoughts;
They've given me new ones,
But we do not get along --
They're someone else's thoughts,
Not mine.
-- Copyright © Mabel Segun (1930-), from Conflict and Other Poems, Ibadan: New Horn Press, 1986.
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