Beautiful Things

Some things are lost along the line Some things, beautiful and fine Driving down the lone road to the stream in my hamlet It’s like yesterday; like catching birds from their nest I giggled as I drove by Mothers breast feeding babies and singing lullaby Naked boys rolling condemned tires, and Ripped virgins with little cloths coverings, as attires I giggled as I drove by. It’s just like yesterday I remember Jerome and others as we gathered to play There was the moonlight rendezvous Where we all gathered, boys, and girls, all of us There was the tales by the moonlight, Ancestral heritages, sacrifices and the Lion’s might The Lion’s might, yet he falls beneath the crafty tortoise I still can hear the choruses; I hear my youthful voice I loved folklore songs. Wars songs for strong sons Let me try seeing if I can still sing one more; Yes! I still can sing “Omalingwo” Omalingwo, Omalingwo tee …… Omalingwo Omalingwo, Omalingwo nwam…… Omalingwo Omalingwo, Omalingwo dia …… Omalingwo Nne nei di na Otutu-aja-o………..Omalingwo Elikwue ma yu atuna ngwo ji ……Omalingwo Ngwo, ngwo onye oma………….Omalingwo My God, I feel new! I can still sing it! Oh God I knew! Omalingwo! Story of the child of a deprived mother Jealous king’s wives over ready for murder Murder and deprivation if that will give them a son To sit on the king’s throne and shine forth like the sun Story of good over evil. Omalingwo! A deprived mother’s son. I giggled as I drove along, Remembering my tiny breasts, when they formed And more fortunate girls laughing me to scorn I remember these things till sadness beclouded me I am fully grown now; nostalgia overshadow me My age mates, plus me, all gone to the cities We can’t assemble again, just like broken pot in pieces Oh! The Eve’s tempting apple of white collar jobs I heard Jerome lived and then died in Jos Killed by religious rioters with missions unjust. I heard Nwasombia is a head dresser is Lagos At 52 and still searching? Celibacy is obvious I heard Nosike is in aviation, head of pilots Even Chima is now in parliament in Cyprus Chima, who spoke big English like “opprobrious” My age mates, plus me, all gone to the cities No more gatherings, just like broken pot in pieces Still driving along the lone road to the hamlet stream Still thinking of beautiful things The beautiful hamlet serene things.