I am speechless.
Anthonia Nneji has done me again.
I am speechless.
I must write her a poem.
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A wonderful gift
Afolabi Damilare’s portrait of Moyo Okediji.
Thanks for this wonderful gift, Afolabi
The Orange Seller
THE ORANGE SELLER
This is my fruit
eat it while ripe.
The harvest season yields
oranges and apples that you
must first taste
with your naked eye
Artist: Moyo Okediji
Title: The Orange Seller
The Massacre of General Okoro
The Massacre of General Okoro
Is it funny
or merely coincidental
That, as they killed her son,
the mother was dreaming
She was breastfeeding him?
MOYOGALLERIA
I’ve been excited lately about something.
Yesterday I received the certificate of occupancy for MOYOGALLERIA, Austin, Texas.
I will focus on African art.
We will invite African artists for residencies of up to three months.
We will provide the artist with a living and working space.
This is very easy.
This is very easy.
Even a baby knows what’s in here
Captive No More
Captive No More
1
What you are reading is not poetry. It is not fiction. It is my true family history.
I am an ascendant from slavery. Yes.
It means I am a descendant of enslaved bodies. Yes.
Inside me, they locked iron collars,
leg fetters, and hand lockers. Yes.
Yes. Does it sound weird? Yes.
Slavery was real in Africa. Yes
Africa was the Ground Zero of slavery. Yes.