Ogaga Ifowodo

Hung above water, hands in the air,
whited tongues and breathing fibrous hair:
roots, white mangrove roots.
...

They heard a thud in a clump of bamboo,
then the tea-black water of the lake
they had drunk for a night and a day exploded.
...

I preferred the nights when oil lamps twinkled
over the evening tide catch in wet nets,
fish-women smelling of eau de poisson
...

They scrap for a living
where the land's promise was boundless ease.
The fisherman throws his net, rejoices
...

(for Ken Saro-Wiwa & the Ogoni 8)


1) Let Us Pretend We Can Write It

Let us pretend we can write it, using
...

(for Sesan Ajayi - 1959-94)

His art is happy, but who knows his mind? ...
For certainly he sank into his grave
...

I was expected. The philharmonic
orchestra struck up as the arched gate
wrapped in summer's mesh of green, loosed its ribbons,
dropped four leaves, one for each month of my stay,
...

We shall shun pain
and write lyrics of the ear.

We shall write only:
...

What are the things that grow here?
Those that grow from stone, lacking
life and root, flesh and water,
things cut as caps
...

The earth you walked to me
spans swamps and savannahs
a fertile plot of pineapples
its sweetness guarded
...

16

So dance with me Oliver, rise and dance,
you whom an angel set free, took the chance

and lit a fire in the rain. Take my hand,
...

15

Through the dark forest, the high branch was my
radar. And I could walk alone till I
...

14

There are no dead ends, only the birthplace
of awaited dreams. Plumbed with the bold mace
...

13

Nights into days into nights. Endless grief.
But come more nights. Let Barrabas the Thief
...

Dawn bared their states of undress, mocked
the women's peasant propriety
as homes crumbled and the bush waved in vain
...