Vast volcanic domes on algal blooms, skies bluish grey,
cryptic pedestal of Kintata.
The hills suspended at the jaws of the skies,
and dingy threads of algae slathered the crooked paths
that crawled up hills.
The smokes like plumy hairs of a wizard
plied the craggy boulders that leapt up the hazy skies,
where twilight fog befogged to a dim surprise.
The blinking glow of an infinitesimal light –
the hearth of Kintata.
Behold the cony hut
jutting to the seeming precarious escarpment of the rocks
where the clanging jab of an alpinist’s axe
echoed with plunking, invisible jab.
The fire burnt, steady and slow, like incense to the skies.
The steep hills slopped and slithered with the sylvan dive.
flanking with foliose twigs and shady shrouds
to the wooden croft of the cattle drovers –
household of Kintata.
The cattle bleated along the breezy bank
where gushing river had trimmed to a tiny creek.
“The shingle worth the fiddling,”
my voice echoed and made a tender blend
with the current of the dazzling breeze.
“My love my love!” she jagged at my hug
that rolled with pride on her buxom waist.
Such paradox prevails in all lifetime,
up and down, down and up again.
The hills subsided to a contrite slope and let the vale preside.
The ravine ran with a ceaseless spread on the tranquil meadows
and let the raffia shades engulf the shimmering shingles with a soothing
“Such is the solace to my soul.”
Even when dusk did descend,
the moon made its spectral peep and there,
my cheeks did glow upon the flinty pillow made for respite.
Under the flashes of Kagoro moon,
my eyes did watch her EYES.
*Written at Kagoro, a settlement in Kaduna State, Nigeria.
Written by: Olayiwola Olarewaju Metamofosis
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
I am a member of the WRR editorial team.