Meditation on immigration and survival as a Nigerian.
Ijaw fathers fling their babies
into the Ibadan river, right
after birth,
with tubes in their belly buttons.
The ones that swim swim.
Mothers sing,
cheering, never weeping,
as their little Phelpses
go for the gold.
Darwin's underwater cabaret
Takes to the sky.
Yoruba fathers fling their sons,
after puberty,
across the oceans, riding
on the backs of seven-hundred and forty seven birds.
Everyone cheers,
no one weeps.
Not even me.
Osa, is this your original writing here? We can definitely work with this, particularly lines like "the ones that swim swim." Wow. What an understatement. Nicely done. You avoid tonal excess really well, particularly since the subject matter is quite intense.
ReplyDeleteThanks for all your comments on my journal!
DeleteThis is indeed original writing. I'm glad you noticed the intensity of the subject matter. I believe that "trusting the audience", as you and Madden would say, was productive here.