A Song In Exile Poem by Haruna Garba

Maroon me
In to the hideous jungle toss me
Yet I will be there with my entire throat
To matter to myself
How incongruous things are
Till indite I, a song of the deaf

So hurl me
In exile, out let me eat my heart
Maroon me
In to the horrific island, off butt me
Yet I will be there with my entire throat
To grumble to myself
How prosaic things are
Till I compose some monody
Sequester me
In solitary, out, let me eat my heart

Maroon me
In to the awesome heather, dump me
And as my little tongue remains untied
At least I can mutter a song
That will awake the out spoken dozer
Who has the other bug piece
Attached to his ear
Mine the whispering part
And the lead, with the air dissolved

Some song crazy birds will drill themselves
Of the songs of the marooned nuts
Which will again fall
In to the ears of wandering skylarks
Out on picnic

Soon, so soon
My new solos will reach
The silenced, hushed up ears of the cities
For ultimately, the skylarks will come home
Cruising, trilling, harping
On the new notes of the marooned nuts

So maroon me
Sure, it doesn't irk me