Like roots we dug deep, like roots
We dug into the depth of her soul.
Her flesh had quaked with fever in a long drawn battle with herbs,
Her stride slowed like the coming pain of her children,
Her flesh had dragged its feet, was immured to the props of a journey
In the plague of timelessness the season was about to be plunged.
"Go away, go away", her soul ambles
"Forget about me, but always remember the trees.'
"The journey is the road; it ends in the river that empties
itself into the sea and the sea is deep."
And we said "the mystery is deeper."
And she said "Go away, go to where the lights are a farce
Acted in monologues,
Where the strands of a story exit in installment to await judgement
At a distant dawn."
So we gathered our metaphors, hid them in our armpits
And commenced a journey into unknown depths
Of that tree coming from the past.
And we were one with the wishes of her soul.
Orike Didi 03: 30hrs DWP 04/Aug/2009.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem