An African Dreamer's Dilema
I dreamt of what I could be
when this faithful deluge
give up
when my day
finally breaks
My bamboo bed
tripled its size
and has only few sticks
still left
Behold!
the depth of father’s grave
came forth;
so also
the forestalled
hopes of grieving mother
still in her mourning cloth
I could smell
the tantalizer
grandmother once prepared
for father
oblivious what next day
portended for us
When the hard nocks
of the rain
broke through
my thatched roof
and ceaselessly
came in droplets
on my brow
It furrowed
to clearer vindication
The light I saw
shorn so bright to be true
every thing in me soothed
and I knew I was coming
closer to where it all started.
Finally I arrived
the dingy room
where grand father
always sat alone
resting his fragile neck
looking at the world.
He ceaselessly crunched
at his well separated teeth
scolding and questioning
his unseen guests
Un-seeable guests
who claimed his only son
only last year
they still want
the remaining
contract performed
Ridiculous. Callous
I imagined grandfather
Must be telling them.
I imagined
Okosisi would dare the spirits
and refuse to die
at least for my sake
whatever the cult may say.
The strands of his hair
hung somewhere in mother’s kitchen
and she knows the price
we shall all pay
if that loop is mistakenly
eaten by the fire
I imagined
Okosisi would dare the spirits
and stick to his gun
and refuse to die
and if he lives
and the spooks demand me
who will continue the family tree?.
Copyright © Frank Azuoma | Year Posted 2011
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