Gongon
you the reincarnate of ayan tree
the resurrect of sacrificial beast
your eyes, wide, penetrating like opele tray
see into the deep groves of grumbling spirits
the rhythmic echoes of those weird- looking strings
baroquing your naked juicy *******
like the heavenly dress of igunnuko
are the sonorous voices of rancoured deities
of neglected ancestors in the gloom
of spirits vexed by their prodigal sons
Gongon
when ayan in acrobatic gait grabs
when kongo in ritual kowtow touches
your skin irritated, your eyes red
and your spiritual mouth cries, wailing
In baritone chant of proverbial rhythm
the foolish in the shackles of tasteless beer
wriggle like fly that falls in deep red oil
not able to fly, not able to dance, not
able to understand the esoteric sob
the wise, in palmwine wisdom, nods head
he has drunk deep the ripples of olokun
drank palm wine and salty blood with ogun
dined with the patriarch, orunmila
and understands the proverbial echoes
of the dead, of immortal black spirits.
© Lanre Adebayo