Our lives are heavily loaded camels in the midst of whirling and whistling sand storms longing for the showers of a rain that has never even spat, our aching hoofs sink in the cracked, dusty ground of the far from humid and airless Sahara where aridity spreads its fluttering wings over the already dimming torches of budding, primal dreams
Our lives are torn kente on the back of an Asante, begging for the tender spin of its first weaver, or perhaps,we can say it is the feeble ofi hanging elegantly on the shoulder of a newly wedded Oyo bride, her beauty brought to the fore by the deep tribal scar of gonbo on her unwilling, tenuous cheeks
Our lives cry in the midst of life threatening tempestuous tornadoes, we raise our heads like Arab adventurers to imaginatively see, discover and explore life as it ought to be, this, however, vanishes like a mirage under the shadowing wings of the haughty black-and-white hawk- eagle.
Our lives wail, If there are listening ears, let them listen. Can the throaty call of the first cock that heralds the morning light be heard if while still an egg has heretofore been squashed? or how can the yellow glittering sun appear, even in its half, with smiley face when, in fact, the skies are sooted by impending, impetuous cloudburst?
Poem By: Tunde Ojerinola
