FOR MY MOTHER..... -1- death came in calicos of cold as I heard from the mouth of those who made the trip of life before me. it steals through clenched teeth and folded palms taking away your breath that we miss so dearly with a sigh at a tick of the clock you were gone with the unwelcome messenger ; quenching my infant hunger, my mouth still suckling away on your breast; as I heard from the elegiac wails of crying eyes mother, ashes of many years counting to four decades have died in the dunghills drying our tears but your memories lingers in the crevices of our minds at the count of my fingers the seeds of your seeds has four less than two dozens even I; last seed of your womb has climbed the ladder of fatherhood -2- if I shout at rooftop that will not bring you back to tell me bedtime stories that death stole from your mouth if I cry rivers of tears will that make up for the lullabies that death deprived my ears of? if I sit at the feet of your grave gnawing syllabic dirges of my orphanhood will you come back to tell the story of how you met my father to begat me? if I go on asking will answers come from your mouth that never spoke to me? -3- when the elephant embarked on the journey to its in-law, the antelope asked: when are you coming back? mother, you are not an elephant, your in-laws you do not know and your in-laws do not know you I have not come to ask; when are you coming back mother, I have come now to tell you that, as you have gone so early your seeds will go very late though we shall meet again but none of your seeds will join you soon, -4- in the coldness of early dawn I unknot the riddle of your name locked in the mouth of arcane pouch ebaikpenegbe, mother of six seeds living to carry on where you could not I undress the meaning of your names In the shelter of my poetry as close as we are , buried in the belly of your name is the meaning of life though your life was brief, in its briefness lies the distance between unity and disunity your name is a loud cry for unity your name is the soul of brotherliness your name is the colour of human currency without which a tree cannot make a forest -5- a day in the life of an orphan sitting at the bank of the river hosting drinking water and home to guinea worms, an antelope crosses, and her babies following behind; mother and children attending to the needs of each other am that orphan, searching the soul of time to excavate the reason my mother left me so soon, did I envy baby antelope? did I miss the cradle songs of my mother? when I open the page of another poem I will pour out the musing of an orphan. -6- mounds of earth dot the cemetery of St. Marks Anglican planted in the heart of ikhin inside one of these mounds lay the dusty skeletons of my mother who can point to the exact grave of my mother? where do I plant the epitaph of my mother? as I scribble these verses for the memories of my mother my mind rove through the corners of the cemetery hoping to hear her voice loud: here I am so that I can post a requiem on the grave
Posted on: Sat, 19 Oct 2013 21:56:39 +0000
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