By Nigerian author Amara Chidinma Ezediniru

Seven score years and more ago

It was celebration galore

A general made a pronouncement

A long desired one

Chains were loosened

Cuffs broken

Gates opened

It was an emancipation day

The Blacks were free

It was June nineteen eighteen sixty-five

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A hundred years later

Nothing had changed

The pronouncement was a powerless paper

Martin shouted

King screamed

A paper it was

A paper it should not remain

Let there be action not just words

Brothers prayed it

Churches implored

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‘Our June Nineteen would come’

We consoled

“I have a dream” was on our lips

In lieu of despair, faith was brewing

We were bondsmen

Slaves with strength

Slaves with vision

Let freedom indeed be

From our hearts to our world

Someday, our Juneteenth will be

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Then came brother president

His abode was the house they called white

A house built with our fathers’ blood

Finally

Our freedom was here

So we thought

That year was truly our Juneteenth

We rejoiced

We cheered

Yes, we did

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Alas!

Our party was truncated

Music turned off

Gloom was our mood

Our brothers remained killed

For eighth years we watched

Every nineteenth came and went

It never was

Not yet but it will be

The Juneteenth we wished for

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We remain hopeful for a real liberation

As was on the General’s paper

Fairness, love, equity

Opportunities, obi anuli – happiness

Not a one-day celebration

Nor a months’

But a lifestyle of a nation

A stance of the world

A legacy for our children

The Juneteenth we wish for!

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