A poem- A new dawn.

i slept last night in a dungeon of memories,
memories that were cold, foggy like the dusts on the streets of Aleppo.
i saw my mother's shadow, trying to tell me things her grandfather told her.
how i should not fondle a cobra, how i should remember the walls that harboured my shadows, how i should...
I listened.

My father still sang the same song: me dipping my gourds deep into the bowl of gold; i am still learning the chorus.

memories. .

lagos. bornu. kaduna. aleppo. brazil.
dusts rose up in these cities, walls fought each other.
boys were sent to cold graves on a hike,
they didn't ask for it.

memories. memories.

a lass walks into my soul, fought a war, won it.
my heart,her trophy.

in 2017;

i slept with the moon and gave birth to stars, stars masked by a white linen, reducing them to translucence.
i crave for transparence. glow. radiance.

2 0 1 8,these numbers will wear me a garland.
-a new dawn- will come,
i will birth the sun.
i will shine.

august 16 began my new year,

tomorrow begins a spree of leaving the cusps of nothingness.
no more lulling. no more delay.
the song my father taught me will be on my playlist/on repeat.

Timothy OJO.