Atele Poem by John Collins Areyayefa

Those beautiful memories at Atele
Lay faintly in my head
Atele
Which has host our forefathers
Ghost of our ancestors gathers to instruct
When I was a boy
Grand father cream our heads with tales of greatness
Laziness had fled us
The mighty moon stood still
Completely smiling at our amazement
These memories are fading.

I recall his moving lips almost wordless
Then I made covenant with Pen
Tell Africa’s child how to crawl and how to stand.
Quit not at the thousandth fall
Tell him how to walk and how to run
Win the prize of freedom
And make us smile at our Grave rest
My bargain is kept
Eniye
Grandfather was called
I wish I had more of him
The tales of his grey hair.
When his pen told of the thorns from the white skinned
I wondered if blacks were truly black

His pen told of his wisdom
And how I walk freely
Because of the chain marks on his legs
He has bore all our whips on his lonely back
Atele
Where our forefathers told their dark days
To bring light to our paths
With us
This track had not lost.

John Collins Areyayefa