Passage Poem by segun Johnson Ozique

So came the day we were in procession
Of craniums hung, bowed
Watching helplessly,
Our mildewed buds of love, fallen
Like pollen blown
On perched earth, withering
Like a dropp of rain in the desert;
Like the hot tears that challenges
A dried and fevered pit
Like seeds planted on burnt moorland
Or process pouring of water to chill a hearth

Here I memoir acting for everyone, left back, you felt affection for.
I pray, like you, it is quite simple:
Crafting it was a delight:

Seasoning, too much seasoning
Had shrivelled our petal,
Unspent, charred ether,
Sprinkling through the acreage alcove
Adieu, Itoya, we miss you like famine:
As when to earth pellet the petchary
As when, the kin’s china is broken;
You, the source of desire was wrenched;
And the Pervading passion of feasting, lost.
Adieu, adieu Alabi Itoya Ejedenawe.
Though your passage was of God’s while,
It was too soon: a li.