A SONG OF MOURNING
The body learning to pray onto itself,
The sky waking up in dead limbs,
falling like a wingless bird
into a song.
A moment’s silence for those that have died
on this path,
Fireflies are bursting into flames.
I await my turn,
A moment’s silence for my heart on fire.
The heart holds everything the mouth
The hill is also a lover
and its words are trapped in trees
I admit I thought love was another word
for rapture, a fantasy in the mouth
of a man speaking in tongues.
today I walked round this city
and all I saw was a sky
filled with fog and the promise of sun,
what are all these metaphors for if not
for sex. I apologize,
the poem of my heart
is your heart and nothing
can write it except water
and the sea within our palms.
There’s also another poem in your lungs. Breath.
The first offering is the breath within a stem.
to live here you have to open
your mouth to the language of roots.
mellons are cherubs
waiting within the womb of God.
Peppers are songs of angels
bringing rain to a land on fire.
At the back of my head
I still hear her voice –
Priestess of the land,
clad in veins and knowledge
of fire and kites –
as she plants her maize on my tongue:
The rain is a messenger of vegetables,
The brown earth running through
her fingers is the heart of God. Pray.
Poems: Romeo Oriogun