Blood - Oyelabi Peter Olawale
By Barnabas Benjamin-Iorguma Reading Time: 2 min read ...................................................................... Blood Softly and gently, Breaking the cage to see my reality, Wrapped in foreign and modern sterility. I was fooled. Twisted my tongue to fit the realm, I'm not fit into, Neglecting the liquid that flows in me, Silencing my natural dialect, Taming the black gene that never dies, Enclaved in the negro blood. The blood of my ancestors, That travails in slavery, The blood of my ancestors, That never bows to oppression. The blood that speaks, till it regains freedom, The blood that stands in Mau Mau, That cracked the sterility of the alien. Softly and gently, I hear the sound of the mystic river, The lullaby my mother sounds Sweeter than the rhythm of libretto. The hand of my mother nurtures me to bed, I wish I was in the ancient, When the days were peaceful, under the control of my mother. The story of the griot, Portruding the mystic folk under the solemn tree...