Cosmic Clay And Deformed Dreams Poem by Doris Dzameshie

In the beginning, when the sky was a wrinkled shroud, And the sea whispered secrets to the moon, Obatala, the cosmic potter, sipped palm wine, And Olokun, the sea's grumpy custodian, frowned.

Verse 1: The Drunken Potter
Obatala, tipsy on fermented sap, Molded clay figures with wobbly hands. He shaped their noses like twisted yams, And their eyes—oh, their eyes were cosmic accidents.

Chorus: Hallelujah in Irony
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! The Orisha chuckled, Their laughter echoing through celestial halls. Obatala's creations stumbled, tripped, and hiccupped, Their limbs defying geometry, their souls unsteady.

Verse 2: The Ugly Revolution
Olorun, the sky's chief architect, sighed, As Obatala's misshapen beings multiplied. They built huts with crooked thatch, And danced to rhythms only they understood.

Chorus: Hallelujah in Cosmic Side-Eye
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! The baobabs swayed, Their roots tapping Morse code to the stars. Obatala, now sober, tried again with fresh clay, Praying for symmetry, grace, and better PR.
Bridge: The Cat's Whisker Redemption
The black cat, forgotten in the corner, Purred wisdom into Obatala's ear: "Life is a cosmic glitch, my friend, Embrace the wonky, the lopsided, the absurd."

Chorus: Hallelujah in Clay Cracks
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! The rivers giggled, Their currents swirling like tipsy dancers. Obatala's second batch emerged—less wonky, But still, their elbows bent like question marks.

Outro: Sunset Benediction (with a Twist)
As the sun dipped low, casting shadows on termite mounds, Obatala stood on his lumpy creation. He declared, "I am the patron of imperfection, The sculptor of quirks, the artist of asymmetry."