SAHARA DESSERT

Let me start this poem with the boiling fury ceded

inside of me, waiting to erupt like a hungry volcano.

Here is where I mould my grief into words, since we

are reduced to shrinking violets. I tell you of this wilderness

 

where you have to die to live again. The people here

call it being “born again.” That is to say, here is where

dreams are daggered into mere fragments. Every rope

you pull is a fragment of despair & hopelessness 

without mercy. In this place,we bloom praying not to

seek doom. In my country, a person's underwear can

feed the vast expanse of the great Ibadan City. Where

our cries are muffled into mere pilings. We gravitate

into dark space, even before Olódùmarè calls us home. 

Here is where our own immortality starts. Our rebirths.