I write this poem to tell a story.
Yesternight, after the sun retired to bed,
My sister and I were still awake;
Sitting at the foot of the mighty Iroko tree,
Alongside some other children and a few adults from the village,
Beneath the chandeliered illumination of the night sky
Listening to grandma’s tales of her ancestors;
Stories of their courage, sacrifices, and fearlessness.
Stories of Anansi, the god of all knowledge and trickery.
Songs of the evening nightingale who once lived on this tree.
Adventures of the wise and ominously cunning tortoise.
And tales of Ikenga, her late husband – the mighty warrior in battle.
But tonight, after the cremation,
Grandma’s body effervescences like smoke
To the skies relaying a message in her exhaust:
‘I am your ancestor now; tell my story.’
This poem was published in the 8th Issue of PoeticAfrica magazine.
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Read – Tales of an Old Man – Temiloluwa Omoyele (Nigeria)
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