oladejo abdullah feranmi

THE POEM REMEMBERS

**Òpómúléró Moja àlekàn.

Òpó róso, òpó gbàjá

Òpó róso, òpó kàn

dudu níwájú oba...

Another chore well-done enough

for Mother to root my head in stardust.

Houses like men, dressed with skins of the wildest

wearing their names on their faces was where I sprouted.

When heights fall below the ground's shoulder,

canines are medals sunken at the waterfall of bloodline,

avalanching lighter than a voice box, heavier than a feather

drunk on a bard's tears, inks etching words on words

on petals, devoiding the pace of anxiety. Here,

you don't hold till it falls if you outlive dawn's

wandering, searching for a home where death comes knocking

with knuckles drunk on ink.

**These lines are excerpts from the eulogy of the Òpómúléró clan of the Yoruba tribe, Nigeria.