[1]kala - Tubor Poem by pere isaac afezu

It is night, and the moon
Shone on my window with its
Silver cloth. My mind race
Back to then when we were
Babies; when our young mind
Is innocent of its actions and
Fragile to caution. When we
Used to play on sands and hills building castles
With empty thoughts of the magical fulfillments of nature
Our folks used to say to us
Not to climb trees and we fall on branches
And cracked our knees
And we cry and cry until dusk is come.
We sit on the stool mopping at the
Moving mouths of our folks to us
And the listening ears,
And we think of our interest
And find none.
And our eyes drowse off
To sleep
And we dream of dreams we never tell.

[1] kala – tubor: an ijaw language for ‘’little child or little mind”