Ijalana Afolabi Poet Lyric

Home

From a-far,
I heard the rhythmic voice of the pestle and
mortar,
compelling the yams into formation.

From a-far,
the sweet smell of palm-wine
came with verve to knock the door of my nose
and resurrected the thirst that made my throat
abode.

From a-far,
in the cradle of dawn,
the crow of the cock
brought the pretty face of home.
HOME
       where the rain walks at a gentle pace
and the sun wears a friendly gaze;
HOME
      where my skin dances to the tune of the careful
breath exhaled by the tall trees.
HOME
         SWEET
HOME!
        How gracious would it be to lie in the belly of
your innocent water
running endlessly from the tireless mouth of your
mountains,
and behold the eternal beauty of greenest field!
         How gracious would it be to dialogue at your feet
with the moon and stars in attendance!

HOME,
For ye, my heart yearns.

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