Black Magic

I am black magic, sprouting out of dark humus The Shaman was Mother Earth, I was birthed strong Black earthen pots on fire made from wet woods, smoking And a forest of leaves sprinkled into water from Osun’s river Cowries from the riverbank where Ogun took his bath hung around mother’s neck As she pushed me out, aided my the concoction to ease me into life’s ocean The Ìbíwéré leaf was dipped into the steaming pots of black everything And I wailed as the moisture hit my unaccustomed flesh. I opened my eyes and smiled at my Shaman, I was enlightened I began to crawl alongside chameleons, I learned fast I walked with apes in search of fruits, I hate and purged I ran the jungle with the wilds in search of goals I flew occasionally with the raven in search of peace but gravitate back to hops like the ostrich, head in sand. After every hectic travails, going home was a relief Especially when I had a game or two to gift Mother Earth She didn’t necessarily ask but I felt obliged to And I could see the glint in her eyes as she smiled Handing me the Àtùpà and a black soap and Épín leaf To wash the dirt off my skin so my black glowers And when I was done eating the fruit of my labor And finished drinking from the moon’s silvery tears Mother Earth told me a story of courage and fear That man is constantly in awe of himself and the universe That man wishes to know but don’t know how And in a desperate effort to understand what he knows not, he loses self And unlike black magic he withers into oblivion