chize ryan ogunkah


Odanora's Guilt


the first lines we knew
were on the ebony plains
of grandpa's ridge
with streaks of red
running down the trails for freedom

where is home
no trace but races, unending
is home in our hearts
on our beds of solace
but in our dreams
we all see
we see salaga and badagry
and hate the trail
numerous paths
now endowed by rails

can i tell the tale
the tale of blood boil
even in the grave on the shores
and in the Atlantic
of tigahua and tamakloe

tears, tears
their tears, our tears
have overflown
the banks of the Atlantic
our tears that watered
the plantations of the west
and still meanders down
into the veins
of the Afro-mountains

those words of Asiata
'i do not know what is freedom'
'what is justice'
it embitters me
oh! it withers me

if only evanescence could be our thought
then starry eyed we become
and our history, a deception

like the waves of the Atlantic
to the sea shore
so are our past
to the future
and that word 'nostalgia'...
it even flows in my veins
then why should i swim
in somber waters
when my me
was sold out

Submitted: Tuesday, September 06, 2011

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