FOUR HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SEVEN

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I prisoner four two seven
Look through the bars of jail,
I see days months years change to eons.
From the soil of my, this land comes,
The fragrance of my father fields.
The burning sun reminds me of my
Mothers stew.
The rain brings along with it
The swings of my seasons.
This harmattan fills me with
The warmth of the fires of my festival.

They say that this is not
My country then why do t feel like mine;
He says that I am not like him
Then why does he look like me?

I prisoner number four two seven
Look through the bars of jail
I see an angel has come down
From heaven in human form
And calls my name.

She’s a complete stranger but treats me like hers.
Hearing her truthful and kind words.

I am provoked to do something more

They say she’s no one of mine
Then why does she fight the world for me?

He says I’m not like her then
Why does she look like me?

I prisoner number four two seven
Look through the bars of jail
I see my lover wrapped in colors, heritage, and culture of my village.
In making my dreams come true
She had forgotten her own in serving my people.
She has left behind her own and now
I want to fill her being with happiness
I wish like living another century for her.
They say, my family,
Is hers, then why is she in my home?
He says that I am not like her then why does
Look like me?

I prisoner four two seven
Look through the bars of jail
At the sight of my lover
All hope is being restored.