And gong
All hang
On my left shoulder,
Kola and ofo well placed
In my half-torn bag.
Dancing to the Igede,
I stride forth from
The deepest part of
The forest of Nkanuland.
On this lonely part
My journey begins.
With a wobling knee,
No strength to run
But keep tip-toeing,
I rest and listen to
The music of sorrow
Here I stand
Before your paradise gate
Well built with red earth
In the mist of the massacred crowd;
Having washed my hand of the ills in the land,
I offer you not beautiful flowers
But pieces of written words.
Replaced the bucket of shame
With that of fame.
I isolated in the thought of the revenge of your brutal death,
I will do it
Not with guns nor barrels
But with the ink which
Flow through my vain
Defying the order of nature,
It disvirgins so many a sheet-
Not like the river of Idoto
Which keeps off the street.
Okigbo, here i am
On barefoot
Standing on the bank
Of river Idoto to
Pay homage to the great godess.
Not getting swayed
By the waves
But gently I squat,
Gathering as many pebbles
as i can-
As a symbol of your amorous nature,
I will present it to the lads who await
your return from the war…
Okigbo! Ka Odi!!
*Christopher Okigbo, (born Aug. 16, 1932, Ojoto,) Is a renown Igbo poet who died while fighting the Nigeria civil war. He died in August 1967. May his soul rest in peace….
Written by: Ewo Franklin Chidiebere
