I have seen the shadows swirl
To the bland drums of the winds,
And watched the moon paint
Silhouettes of already dark things.
Its late sombre gleam mocking
The coldness of this sunken land
Of sullen night birds, sulking
With their frail crows and coos
I’ve heard them sing these elegies—
For a divinity native to us,
From our swarthy to fair images.
We picked ethereal chirps in mist
Translated them from our infant eyes—
For through the wit of young and old
Grew our richness and blight
—or the cheer of the starry sky
I wore a hermit’s ears and heard
The night’s faint portentous shrills
Oscillating as beads sitting upon
Voluptuous hips, like hills.
In the dreary air I saw members
Of our pantheon sail the chilly ocean
Like rafters paddling in cold Decembers.
We since, have made messiahs of all semblances.
Read – Surp Flowers – A Poem by Ogenyi Akunna, Nigeria
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