This mad man was here when my grandmother sketched the scar of witches upon my forehead..
I dream of a black man
running around the streets of my illusions
in torn attires
weaved upon his head are
broken baskets and his feet are the wayfarer's.
I dream of him when I sleep
and I wake to see him buried in my eyeballs
I see him sing with the night and the owl
and the scars upon his forehead;
he makes me remember my grandmother.
I dream of a mad man
I see him run in circuits of circles, like a man – helter-skelter
seeking shelter in the cold corridors of a webbed
maze,
I see him move his mouth to mock me and my beliefs,
and my fate and my faith and my fortune.
this mad man knows my story
he was here when I was taught to drink blood
of brothers in a brothel with bushels of darkened
desires
he was here when I was taught to knot pain
in the heavy heart of onlookers
this mad man was here when my grandmother
sketched the scar of witches upon my forehead
this mad man is me trying to live again
in the hands of a white world where
rainbows and scents of rain still come as travellers
and the night perches on the shoulders of reality
and the moon stands atop our roofs without guilt or
blood
or bile or bizarre anger about sacrifices we didn't
make
this mad man is me starting a fire of lunatics
on these streets where our fingers and teeth
have called souls into graves beneath our feet
this mad man is the picture of my grandfather
walking through those junctions
with the wicked hands of his lovely wife
Adedayo Adeyemi Agarau is a student of Nutrition and Dietetics at the Federal Polytechnic Ede.
from pulse.ng - Nigeria's entertainment & lifestyle platform online
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