Tade Ipadeola
Migrations
It took a desert’s heat to revisit the sorrow
Of mothers. Those for whom the world entire
Was Ramah. Women for whom no tomorrow
Offered lasting solace. Whose rueful tears tire
Not. It did not matter, saint or courtesan
If a son or daughter cannot be found
In the wake of a slaving raid, as one woman
They mourned freeborn children now bound
And their anguish rolled loose like the lexeme
Of the desert, whose monotonous eye rhymes
Deep and wide, was temptation to blaspheme:
Offspring crossing boundaries to another time.
Elemental in their sackcloth, the women wept
Their way to private purgatories, where pain
Was alpha and omega, where torture, adept
As priests at inquisition, defamed old Spain.
The names of children, sons and lovers
Accumulated in the store of memory and spilled
Out of bounds, the names of brothers,
The names of those who fought, those killed
Resisting the tide. These names rose a monument
Through time, through stormy weather and fair,
Onomastic totems, towering where they went
Invincible. Names invisible and essential as air.
Wow. This is fluid. Your choice of words are legendary. Great write!
From the day I met you, it has alway being education for me, you always amaze me with you writing. I will always ask for more…
Great sounds and music …
After the festival in Eko,
The conjugal meet,
Mate
And Meat,
The Naija-Italiano
Feast.
I wanted more,
More from the literary-pot,
More
From the seasoned broth.
Now I’ve got it,
Minced meat,
So I chew on bit-by-bit.
I love also
the way these hides of words u knit,
The bait I joyfully swallow
Drowning beneath
Ur sea of metaphors,
Urs are stream of balms for the cure of all sores.