Black and beating
Yet emptied of precious things
That go to make heaven on earth
Inebriated on a brew
More committed to purpose than earth’s matriarch bacterium
Gripped by a disease banishing sense and sanity
And sentiments reign over mind with a fevered grip.
So what if we were born
At the foot of the Baobab or the Iroko
Or raised under the shade of the Udala
And the Oil Palm.
Do not the children tell tales
Under eyes of one same watchful moon.
So what if we choose freedom
Under the weight of a Cross
Or look to the Crescent Moon
And distant Stars for light
Or pour hot drink on the wooden likeness
Of silent paternity
For wisdom to walk life’s path.
Do not our excrement
Wrinkle the nose in the same way
Then what insolence
Elevates one above the other!
When the unity before the darkness
First churned us into the light
Warmth was our watchword
Labels and logos are the mighty
Constructs of broken hearts
They are iron bars behind which
The sane repose in languish unaware
Though bearing different names
Do not the children play at like games
Kindred spirits miles apart
What if we could tame our hearts
And just let the children play
As we sit on sturdy stools carved of the Iroko
Drinking potent palm wine
Under shade of the ubiquitous udala
Listening to tall tales of the ancient baobab.
About the writer:
Uzezi Ologe is an aspiring author, writer, screenwriter, film critic, photographer and poet. Well, he is something of a rolling stone trying to gather some moss, and the author of many unpublished works of art.
Nigerian born, bred and buttered in the Deltan city of Ughelli, he is an avid reader, poet and storyteller.