“And the dead be bygone” they said
It’s funny that I think not
I resist the thought.
Even though I do in private, cowardice isn’t my companion.
And loneliness isn’t too far either.
It can’t be bygone if they didn’t want to go.
As for me and Folashade, it can never be over.
I did have mourned my loss till it dawned on me
“Never let me go, let me live in you. I want to stay”
Those last words… I should say in person
My own Fola isn’t gone, I owe it to keep her alive
So I shrug when the children refer me as crazy
Or when my hand burned in oil by order of the village chief
They still think I’m crazy
To squeeze a woman’s breast off her blouse
But then I shrug again
They didn’t see Fola tell she wanted a feel of me
And whoever that woman was took control of her body
Even before she had the chance to tell me how it felt.
When my hand pressed in boiling oil,
I wondered where my Fola had wandered to
And who they said had defiled the king’s daughter.
I heard myself speak on her behalf
That It was undeserving to be without me,
Stuck between the portal of soul’s unrest.
But the pain didn’t take me to be with her
And my want for warmth increased to drunken.
So I dishonoured to be a pig
Searching for scraps
All through the night
Swollen and battered ready to give
In the disoluted area for the asleep…
Till I found her body, numb but calling
A true beauty that never fades.
Then I did it for both of us as we wanted
Riding and being a man
Stabled by her soft praises
And when awaken at sunrise
By murmurs and wails
And a struck from Baba’s staff
To which words opened
How I have been in reckless abandon
“It is a sin to cherish those whom heaven has doomed for destruction”