Enitan: a Child With History

There is a full moon at your doorstep, a silver coin placed on your navel rubbing its metal which Perches on body of humans, Clouds walk on the horizon and etch new rivers on your body feeding the offspring with meaning. Summer locked between your lips, winter beneath your feet, your hands can fold your body in half. Time tickled in distance, a shooting sun zoomed down the empty scary earth in a long line of fire; that was that fateful day you escaped from the womb. Enitan, a child with history in his eyes, this is the wish of the moon you stay among the natives, We will look at your face like the mermaid of amageldom, we will dance this planet of wishes with empty hearts for the history of this land lies in your folded palms. We saw distrustful eyes of the appraisals glared from helms of your clothes, secretly enving. you didn't come like an Ogbanje, you never give your mother abominable pains, you never frustrated your father's efforts, and he never fell from the top of slippery chips of the palm tree on a rainy days. Your sister was not struck by lightning, your brother was not bitten by a cobra. Yet there are expression of hurts in restless mind of haters, quick, penetrating, and meaningful because the prophecy has been fulfilled. The pot if polished poetry have been written, our hearts filled with gold and silver, the sky mumbled in excitement for this: the thousand hands will always wave home the spirit which creates history in your eyes. ENITAN, your tale takes a generous sward of perfect lyre of the moon and the sun pretty. This is our hope tabled under hearts to love. ©John Chizoba Vincent