Nwam

With these April showers/I feel you flower into being/thick growth within my core/I now see my life through you/indelible scar on your face/my likeness binds to your form like/endless embrace…/and…I am within you for all your days…/shuttered tight eyes see you/inside my night crawls with Jesus/and He shows me how to… bless you/with song…/feed you with …truth…/urge you to…bear fruit…/and in waking moments I hear your breath in my throat…/touch your presence through my skin/you are kin/to warm when my life is spent…/…I now relish sweet expectation of your dawning/ first-born…first-son… first coming/you look like your Fathers/i already know your face.

...of ghosts and dreams past and present...

Ki le n se!..they are killing your children!!!.../glaring at me through prison bars/he extends hand and finger though narrow opening/my gaze settles on wizened cheeks/lids fluttering with each bold heartbeat/Wole admonishes me into/sorrowful regret/and I curse my silence/my mind railing against my tied tongue/my shame catapults me into motion/and …tearing eyes from his face/I …tear down darkened hallway/through broken pebbled alley…/silent screams boil in my chest…/I have no release../here in my dream…I am mute.

…I follow road to mud hut led by../woodsmoke/stooping to enter strange stronghold/I adjust my skin to darkness and feel my way in/here in my dream…I cannot see/feeling metal against paper skin/”Papa I am sorry…I have not made you proud”/wrinkled palm grazes my chin/and Chinua/brushes away shower of my tears from his…/upturned face…/”why are u afraid daughter…to lose gift freely given”/”go and plant rivers in the ground…pockets of your soul to…feed the earth…word music…to last forever…/go nwam…go…”/and I turn wheelchair towards fire and stumble out of his heart…/to…

…soundless dawn../and now in my dream…I am deaf…/but scent carried in the breeze nudges me towards/spice farm…where/I see battle scene among curry and ginger blossoms/infantry-man wielding manuscript runs towards enemy/stop!…I speak it again stop!!…maddened screams…stop!!!...and he runs and runs and runs…I feel volley of voices behind me…/and I turn to see woman and army of my kin…/in harmony stop!!/we watch him sink into Biafran war bayonet/and stream of life flows away from him/I crumble in a heap/…and am awakened by weight of funeral dirge/Christopher Okigbo is dead/who will speak for us now…

…women in white with shaven heads cry/empty children covered in ashes sigh through throats constricting in hiccups/souls borne away with father to hidden place beyond the grave/who indeed!...mother cries and …she turns to me…/You!...you will speak for us!/you will plead for us…/you will bleed for us…/now I... see…I hear…and I ...speak…and I speak…/torrents and Himalayas…/hollows and leaps and bounds and dense layers/screaming with swallows…/groaning with the trees…/my dreams carried to faraway spaces with the breeze…/I speak now for my mothers…/I cry for my children…/I fight with my brothers../I stand for all…for everything kindred…and I speak…and I speak…and still I speak.

Revival

..with hand on cheek…/ i slide my hand inside your thigh that day when we...whispered of orcs and villains...between Border’s bookcases…/sharp furtive sigh…/echoes inside vortex of forest glen…/…and within ... this bowel of God’s pubic bush…/we find entrance to…/…the way your love curves along with…every whim of my centerfold…/like…the way dreams live…within this strange awakening…of …/spirits and sound…long buried beneath../my heavy derisive heart…/like…your hands gathering to…your teeth…/cheeks of my soft swollen places…/I …visit structures within my passion…/architectural ode to the way to the way we knew we were meant to love…/staccato in perfect time…/fingers tiptoe through dank secrets…/reviving the …many faces…I make…/self portrait of my second, third and forth-cuming…/your.. methods court me into submission…sweet oblivion/glorious resurrection…/and what do you know…I feel like myself once more.