True Blind Poem by John Popoola

Hmm!
A beautiful black hamlet raised to overlook its square,
Fair in its roots, bitter as it shoots,
Was frenzied by a blinding shriek,
Which saturated both poor and rich.
Like light, buried in lucid darkness.

Amidst these Shriek-blinds was a young True-blind
Blind from creation, raised by starvation
Fostered on Shriek-blinds' ominous sacrifices
Their scavenging deity at the T-junction
He was tender in his heart and blind to the shriek

That sad morning, as the shriek graduated
And the hamlet rode in tandem, unpunctuated
The True-blind, alien to his worshippers,
Groped for the village river.
His heart leapt at its sonic loudness,
He drew in his breath with tranquil loudness

True-blind! Oh, True-blind!
You should not have woken this morning.
For the shriek has buried the loudest kinds
And enliven impiety once foreign
True-blind, Oh True-blind
Don't fall. Oh if you fall don't sink. Oh if you sink don't die
Who would consume their sacrifices? or ward off their jins
Oh True-blind! You should not have died
Oh True-blind you should not have shriekked