oladejo abdullah feranmi
THE POEM REMEMBERS
**Òpómúléró Moja àlekàn.
Òpó róso, òpó gbàjá
Òpó róso, òpó kàn
dudu níwájú oba...
Another chore well-done enough
for Mother to root my head in stardust.
Houses like men, dressed with skins of the wildest
wearing their names on their faces was where I sprouted.
When heights fall below the ground's shoulder,
canines are medals sunken at the waterfall of bloodline,
avalanching lighter than a voice box, heavier than a feather
drunk on a bard's tears, inks etching words on words
on petals, devoiding the pace of anxiety. Here,
you don't hold till it falls if you outlive dawn's
wandering, searching for a home where death comes knocking
with knuckles drunk on ink.
**These lines are excerpts from the eulogy of the Òpómúléró clan of the Yoruba tribe, Nigeria.