I
How can my world collapse
and shatter like splintered ice?
Yet Dide soke stirs within my chest:
Rise. Lift. Awaken to light.
II
On Third Mainland Bridge I stand,
rooted like the ancient Iroko.
Ori mi — crowned in quiet fire —
my head, my path, my destiny.
III
Life threads itself through ash and grey.
Ọgbọ́n now speaks where youth once burned.
Faces gleam with polished smiles,
while silence gathers underneath.
IV
Still, I plant my hope across the divide,
a garden wrestling dust into bloom.
Akoko leaves bruise beneath my steps —
time measuring what I must become.
V
A broken vase — yet fragrance lives.
From shattered clay, perfume persists.
Light slips gently through each fracture,
naming beauty without shame.
VI
Fair is truth — and I walk renewed.
Breath by breath, release unfolds.
The Agogo hums through rib and bone,
peace ringing where fear once slept.
VII
The Gángan rolls with living pulse,
summoning buried dreams to rise.
To live is more than borrowed breath —
it is to dare, to stand, resist.
VIII
Lagos shimmers through salt and smoke,
towers lifting from restless earth.
Stone and sky lean close to listen,
hope rehearsing its quiet crown.
IX
Tell me, Ore mi —
shall destiny splinter like ice?
In this city of heat and hunger,
must vision bow to dust?
X
No.
I rise.
I name myself.
I gather every fallen spark.
For those who fall and rise again
shall claim the ground beneath their feet.
Ala mi does not beg.
It reigns.
Mar 9
Mar 9, 2026 at 10:29 AM UTC
I
How can my world collapse
and shatter like splintered ice?
Yet Dide soke stirs within my chest:
Rise. Lift. Awaken to light.
II
On Third Mainland Bridge I stand,
rooted like the ancient Iroko.
Ori mi — crowned in quiet fire —
my head, my path, my destiny.
III
Life threads itself through ash and grey.
Ọgbọ́n now speaks where youth once burned.
Faces gleam with polished smiles,
while silence gathers underneath.
IV
Still, I plant my hope across the divide,
a garden wrestling dust into bloom.
Akoko leaves bruise beneath my steps —
time measuring what I must become.
V
A broken vase — yet fragrance lives.
From shattered clay, perfume persists.
Light slips gently through each fracture,
naming beauty without shame.
VI
Fair is truth — and I walk renewed.
Breath by breath, release unfolds.
The Agogo hums through rib and bone,
peace ringing where fear once slept.
VII
The Gángan rolls with living pulse,
summoning buried dreams to rise.
To live is more than borrowed breath —
it is to dare, to stand, resist.
VIII
Lagos shimmers through salt and smoke,
towers lifting from restless earth.
Stone and sky lean close to listen,
hope rehearsing its quiet crown.
IX
Tell me, Ore mi —
shall destiny splinter like ice?
In this city of heat and hunger,
must vision bow to dust?
X
No.
I rise.
I name myself.
I gather every fallen spark.
For those who fall and rise again
shall claim the ground beneath their feet.
Ala mi does not beg.
It reigns.
“Ori Mi, I Rise” is a poetic meditation on destiny, resilience, and awakening. Drawing on Yoruba spiritual imagery and the living pulse of Lagos, the poem reflects a journey through doubt, fracture, and renewal — where the inner head, Ori, guides the soul to rise again.
