The Way I Would Love To Go Poem by David Olusanya

This is not a song of woe
it's just the way I'd love to go,
when my days are fully spent
and my years, without a dent.

I'd love to still be a boy,
not as old as the fall of Troy
to leave in the fire of my feats
and go in the warmth of my wits.

I'd love to go on a sabbath
and set my feet on my ancestor's path;
After ingesting a fresh cat-fish
served on top of a solid local dish.

I'd love to wear a new dansiki
while seven virgins chant my oriki.
I'd love to hear the riddles of Saworode
and the hunters' march in the shoes of Ide.

I'd love to go in the night
under the mystery of the moonlight
of which, by same, I was conceived
to have my clan, of strife relieved.

I'd love the men drunk with palm wine
and their bellies potruded with roasted kine.
I'd love the women charmed to the beat of Bata
and savour the chorus of their Leopard-skin bata.

I'd love my remembrance become a famous festival
and grow into a universal carvinal.
I'd love a paved path from Odo-eri to scotland
and a tarred road from Omu-aran to England.

I'd love to have a niece of Momolosho and Elizabeth
and a nephew of Oshaji and Macbeth.
I'd wish to taste of my honey-akara
and feel the texture of my festival's ankara.

Thus, while I choose to go this way,
give yourselves to songs and play.
Have me washed by a good woman
whom have known nor birth no man.

While I sleep so sound and deep,
weary not your eyes to sob and weep.
Have me laid down like a child
with a smile so sleek and mild.

Have it boldly on my tomb,
of my journey from the womb;
That I began as 'jerkson'
and live my latter as 'churchson'

Let my home be lodged by scribes
from every colour and all tribes.
Let my room be made an alter
where God's praise shall spring without falter.

David O. Olusanya (Crabpen Churchson)