my love
thy hair is one kingdom
  the king whereof is darkness
thy forehead is a flight of flowers

thy head is a quick forest
  filled with sleeping birds
thy ******* are swarms of white bees
  upon the bough of thy body
thy body to me is April
in whose armpits is the approach of spring

thy thighs are white horses yoked to a chariot
  of kings
they are the striking of a good minstrel
between them is always a pleasant song

my love
thy head is a casket
  of the cool jewel of thy mind
the hair of thy head is one warrior
  innocent of defeat
thy hair upon thy shoulders is an army
  with victory and with trumpets

thy legs are the trees of dreaming
whose fruit is the very eatage of forgetfulness

thy lips are satraps in scarlet
  in whose kiss is the combinings of kings
thy wrists
are holy
  which are the keepers of the keys of thy blood
thy feet upon thy ankles are flowers in vases
  of silver

in thy beauty is the dilemma of flutes

  thy eyes are the betrayal
of bells comprehended through incense

your eyes
            are
          so explosively
   captivating
                    i feel like i
   float in space
                 every time
      your blue
                    and
                          my green
               collide,
    creating a new earth.

and here i put this pen to paper
my Spirit blood flows down my arm and onto the page
i do not fear being naked
as there is no hiding from this truth
yet it is carved in code
in secret language
in runes
it is humbling to place them here
at the altar of other wanderers
and i will write
as i must
these words
C Patricia Sky Bellefleur 2017

i speak these words into the swirling void
rich throbbing energy rebounds
within my spirit sings a resonance
may i learn to treasure silence

my feet they speak to me as they contact the MotherEarth
they tell me how and where to walk upon Her
they carry me to places where i find the learning
the deeper language of the mystery
of ancient things

trees surround stand stoic in the light rain
rooted in the Earth they demonstrate a way of being
may i always listen to the silence
the one that speaks if i can only hear
the one that roars through me when i am still
the one i try to translate
C Patricia Sky Bellefleur

The land is soaked with blood
The sand is soaked with tears
Oh
How many barrels of blood must be spilled
to know that so many souls are gone?
How many basins of tears does it take
to have more than enough tears?

I am the voice of the little child
crying in the wilderness
I want to caress the flowers that spring
out of the ground of my homeland
I want to watch the ripples when rain falls
I want to play with my mates on the sand
along Chu Ngoke street
I want to sit at home and watch my parents
returning from a bountiful yam harvest
I want to stand at the playground and watch the
traditional wrestling
I want to hear the sounds of Egelege and Egoni
talking drums reminding me of yesterday
and a great future ahead
I want to chase away goats from eating the
maize in my mother's garden
I want to open my mother's ***
and pick a meat out of the soup
I want to see my homeland
Sweet little home of ours
Please take me back to Alode
Please take me back to Alode

I am the voice of a man
Whose hope lies in shackles
Whose homeland lies in broken images
A town deserted and forgotten
I am tired of begging for crumbs
When my barn is filled with yam
Mudskippers can still be found in our swamps
Please take me back to Alode
I don't want to die in another man's land
I want to die in Alode, somewhere in Eleme
I want to be buried near the grave of my father
and see my ancestors usher
me home with a shining crown
Take me back home
Take me back home

Take me back to Alode
Let me see beautiful women that
toss about the streets
Let me admire their buttocks
Let me stare at their *******,
those two round objects protruding out
of their clothes, ******* that
could make me feel like a child again
Let me kiss Nyime Owa Eleme, that beautiful
lady of my dream
Let me lay her down on my bedside and
make life worthwhile
I want to go back home and see
the sunshine with it's illuminous rays
and the tender droplets of the rain
Oh Please take me back to Alode
Please take me back to Alode

Take me back to Alode
Let me touch your borders
From Alesa to Ogale
From Echieta to Onne and
From Ebubu to the Onu Nmu where they say
the hands cannot reach
I want to touch the land of Alode
I want to touch the Eleme soil
I want to touch the soft green grasses of home

Written by
Jonah Okpabi