Olódùmarè is a miracle worker.
Here is a picture of the latest sculptures at the Àkòdì Òrìṣà.
The sculptures, representing a group of indigenous Ile Ife divinities including two male and two female divinities, still are works in progress.
The mighty and resplendent Iya Iroko
tree had remained rooted
to the same spot
near the Oba river
for three hundred and sixty-four seasons
watching the ways of humans
from the viewpoint of a plant
under which folks sat
Captive No More (Part VI)
17
Tanto, my grandfather’s dog
was busy harassing a lizard
when he caught the scent
of strange bodies.
He did not hear them
and he did not see them
but he could smell them
within fifty yards from him.
The rainbow is smearing
pigments on my teeth
as if being colored
is a virtue;
All it does is keep the
cops from trusting me
when I cross
the street from innocence
to dark alleys
where they play hide
Captive No More V
14
The baale of Apaara,
My great grandfather
returned on horseback
only to discover that
His favorite child was gone
swept along the rabid rapids
of the slavers’ path
into the abyss of time.
Captive No More IV
10
After my great grandmama realized
that her songs failed
To return her child to her breasts
She stopped singing
and began to dialog with herself
even when nobody listened.
She asked strange questions
and responded with strange answers.
Exactly one year ago, I made the following statement about the impending presidential election, President Buhari and the state of the Nigerian nation.
Please read on:
The presidential election in Nigeria is postponed for another week.
Who will win between Buhari and Atiku?
(In all seriousness, all other names are not on the ballot).
The question is not whether Buhari will be reelected into office as the president of Nigeria.
Captive No More (III)
7.
Music is the language of tragedy,
and dance, the vocabulary of trauma.
Silence, the death of feelings,
marks the beginning of madness.
After my great grandmother in vain
yelled the name of her son, Akin,
several times, and got no response,
she stepped outside and scanned
where he was playing,
and yelled his name again,
when she did not see him there
her stomach sank
because down in the pit of her womb
she knew he was gone.
Captive No More (Part II)
3.
When they snatched my grandfather
from the breasts of his mother,
he lacked the language
to grasp or describe
what did happen
and was happening to him
.
In those days,
mothers breastfed their infants
for three solid seasons,
some four, some longer.
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.
What is Male?
Who is male and who is female?
It all depends on time and space, as my father told me just before he joined the ancestors last year.
About two weeks to his transition, my father called me and said he needed to tell me something important.
Cellphone Conversation
(After Wole Soyinka’s “Telephone Conversation”)
My phone rang, I recognized the number
and picked it up.
“Hey, babe,” I said,
“What’s going on?”
She started laughing,
and it seemed she wanted to talk,
but just couldn’t control herself.
I wanted to know
what was so funny. Finally,
she managed to stop laughing.