You are mine Little Wing.
Not only because of the magic in the luster of your wings,
But ultimately since you are the treasure in my life,
you are mine Little Wing!
When you come flapping those little wings of yours,
Knowledge is brought alive right there on Lagos Island,
Down Simpson Street on the right hand corner,
after the High Court Complex,
Adjacent to the market square,
where you taught me how to eat the native meal made
By pouring a bowl of yam flour into a hot pot of water on fire, stirred periodically with the pestle
To form its characteristic hot brown mound that is a delight to devour, whose flavor is enriched by the woody scent of the dry firewood; Its smoky pillars form shafts of light with the clouds that swims in the skies.
Folks do come to join me in eating this sumptuous yam flour meal,
Which is taken with goat meat soup that is made with rare vegetables and spices
From the land where the sun never sets,
served in dishes with a keg of palm wine.
No resolution is accomplished until the contents have been consumed,
And the plates and fingers licked clean with the unsatisfied tongue.
I do not know if it was your voice I hear,
or the brilliance of the regality of your presence,
Which flies me to where my dreams rule the sky
In the seasons of melody,
on the banks where no river can cry.
I always feel the ruffling currents,
Little Wing, pounding on the landscape of life,
but if I look straight up to the sky,
I will find you ever hovering over me.
Little Wing, fly; Little Wing never says goodbye: you have never failed to accompany me
Through the jagged hills and sometimes boisterous path of life,
in such I recall my canoe journey through the bourn of destiny,
as I roll along,
Feeling unseen modes of entities that form a friendly flank about me,
as an assurance that you are never too far away,
Through the incent of lime and grapefruit,
paired with spearmint and mandarin orange in a base of amber and musk,
blended with oak moss,
The spirits of disarray itself flee in panic.
Little Wing you feed me power nurture me with cinnamon and honey,
And water my system with milk of triumph
– I am on the ground with you, Little Wing,
I share the calm clouds with you,
© Olawale Famodun
Excerpt from the book “Poems Of Redemption”
About the Author
Olawale Famodun, a graduate of geology, has been a member of the top management team in one of Nigeria’s biggest Group of Companies for the past three years.
He has grown a steady, yet modest reputation, on his passion for literature and the arts for over two decades. He was a prominent member of his high school Dramatic Society, distinguishing himself in roles which included, but not limited to, Aderopo in ‘The Gods are not to blame’ and The Spiritualist in ‘The Corpse’s Comedy’. At the end of his degree course in geology, he collaborated with a dramatic team in the institution to stage a Yoruba play which he had translated to English. The play, ‘Tragedy of Efunsetan Aniwura – Iyalode of Ibadan’ by Professor Akinwunmi Ishola was written in verse drama using the blank verse style. In 1999, he was highly recommended in the BBC African Performance Radio Drama of that year.
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