Cocoon of Broods

Shall we dance the dance of one leg up

in the groove of this seemingly merriment here?

Lewis, these rhythms are the rumbles of friendly adversaries

they beat the skins of drums into foxy sweetness

how they beat the skins of drums to tear and to tears…

these strings are strummed with vipers’ plectrums…

pure craftiness melding the howling bass of hyenas and the hooting treble of owls…

shall we not dance the dance of one leg up in the waves of this seemingly merriment of the rhythms here?

perhaps, we would save ourselves a leg and a limping from this rhythmical mines orchestrated to lame us…

 

ii

 

shall we our legs hood in boots of iron?

for our sturdy-steady stand on these slippery paths

Lewis, I must tell you, these paths are slippery they slip giants careless treads in boots of fur…

they slipped ignorant akanni…and he kissed death…

these paths have widowed adunni…

these paths are ruthless carnivores…unsatisfied gourmands!

shall we not our legs hood in boots of iron?

for our sturdy-steady stand on these miry paths

perhaps, we would scale antecedents’ flaws and failures and leave remarkable footprints for hopeful feet of posterity…

 

iii

 

shall we rent leaves of deafness for stillness of storms?

and find tranquil silence for our troubled ears

Lewis, these are not onomatopoeias of fireworks, for today we mourn these are whistles of missiles, booms of bombs…shells of darkness and doom

these storms are not festive raucity, they are tidal wails of turmoils

shall we not rent leaves of deafness for stillness of storms?

and find soothing springs of inner rhythms for our troubled ears

perhaps, we would tell,under milky spills, folktales again and drain the dreads in the hearts of our innocent children.

 

iv

 

shall we undo the muteness of our mouths?

for how shall we speak the writings of our grief if…?

Lewis, our golden silence has brought us no gold we have endured…we still endure silver and bronze of pains

our writings are relics of fame…silenced existence…

shall we not undo the muteness of our mouths?

for how shall our arts bring the index of change in mutes?

perhaps, we would win beauty again for our worn fates and crown our pens feathers of mightier than the sword indeed!

                         ~Ayoola Goodness 

                            Lagos, Nigeria

 

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