To the unheard voice
[For Nwachukwu]

I have drunken of the deep.
I have heard mermaids singing.
Our paths have branched to the road not taken

This is a period of silence.
The audience retain their body.
But the masquerade dances to secret tones of the dead.
This is a period of silence.
You too can hear mermaids singing in the night.
Between the deep, under the crevices of the towering
rapids.
You too can partake in the ritual of the masquerade.
But our paths have branched to road not taken.

We danced to the virginal throbs of the jungle.
Then it was our circumcision to silence.
But those spirits gave us the pots.
What was in your pot, son of God?
There was no reptile when I broke my gift.

You too can hear mermaids singing.
You too can hear winds raving in the wild.
The thunder too  can play jazz.
But have you drunken of the deep?

This is a period of silence.
This silence sings of rituals.
These rituals sing of spirits.
When you will listen to mermaids singing their strange
songs in the deep.

Does your pot contain sacred songs now?
Then you will rise above the folds.
Then you will soar.
Then you will lose your flesh and dance a mermaid's
dance.

Haven't you seen them in the noons making strange
marks in the sand?

Did you think they sang of you then.?
Did you think they danced to the raw beats of your
jungle.

I have worn those masks, son of God.
They carved me in woods
They painted me red, yellow and white
The painted me black.
They made me a woman.
And like Ekwefi searching for her husband among the
audience
You did not see me in the crowd.
But I was agboghommo sparkling like scattered gold in
the sun.
I danced in the noons making mysteries to the seventh
earth.

You thought I was colourful then, son of God.
You thought I was making music for an incoming
madness.
But I was just agboghommo learning the secrets of the
mermaids.