Born to the beauties of the flooding nocturnes
His mouth becomes pool, his mouth becomes moonlight
He was the pool’s birds of worship, he was moonlight’s horn
His horn ripening where soldier-boys shoot
Never quaked to name things obliterated
Not until the named and the namer are obliterated
Witnessing, that is surrendering :As wit-ness!
And remember, he mated laughing ferns .
He is playmate of his age , he who tasted his day
Tasted fugitive tones he insistently endured.
He that is speech till the end , he died –
The sea, the rivers wrestled and raged
They sought again, his gentle praise as drummer and sage.
She weeps from tombstone to tombstone
She weeps leaning on her doorpost
She weeps tying and untying her robe
She weeps into her hymnbook
She weeps dancing
To directors of her anguishing hour
She weeps unassuaged by the anthill.
The anthill’s exultant twilit beauty
Radiates vast devastated Niger Delta.
The tears of a Mother
Make a dwelling in the evening air.
She weeps for the ogoni 9 and more
She weeps for the Jesse 1000 and more
She weeps, till all the griefs’ poison deserted her.
Burn gently, toxin, upon the creeks’ pinked face.
Dirging in the dark , I read
All the sad eyeballs balloon
Between blacked-out eyelids into moonballs of light
Dirge by dirge, I ease myself
From grief to see depths:
Death, only death swims the Delta.
Dirging in the dark,
I sing myself to sleep:
Believe your grief
Heal your grief
To believe is to heal.
SENTINEL POETRY #29, Online Magazine Monthly, April 2005, ISSN 1479-425X