A Song For A Beloved


A Song For A Beloved

Two days today,
was the waking of your memories.
the million memories you kept
inside the feel of our minds.

we saluted!
we embraced!
Yet the fast legs of tears
would not let our eyes settle.

It was just yesterday
we recalled you in our huts.
the weather was hostile
the moon was mournful
even our shadows
which roamed about in mute,
nearly deserted our spirits.

Your smeared memories of suddendom,
we couldn’t hold!
we couldn’t bear!

when you hear the winds
take her broom of sanity
in the godly morn,
look no where, stare no land
for amongst the dust
shall linger the twirling songs of us
pacifying the hands
that sent you packing.



That culture may flourish——


Born on an angry morning,
the weeping of a woman,
she was a mother;
a mother of twelve.

Her womb was my home,
her soul my blood,
in her spirit was my life,
written on pieces of coagulation.

From birth,
inside the little hut,
of red clay from the river bank;
a black feather was found along
the dungeons of my teeth.

I am told,
I am culture itself,
bridegroom of loyalty,
a stream pool of unity,
a future dream of supremacy,
the swish I saw solemnised.

Bleeding thoughts of me,
under the shrine’s shelter,
where kola dances with solar;
and as they did–
my royalty remains at my ankle,
and along the beads around my calf.

The Village Thinker © 2014