Smoke Rings

 

A loud wail resounds

accompanied by a dirge.

Groans and moans, tears like river,

wake the sleeping night

as an elephant goes home.

Where does death lay its head?

How does he his victim choose?

Alabi, Alabi,

Iku has snatched you from our hands,

Snuffing the life out of your 

blackened lungs,

making perfect smoke rings

to the loud ovation of villagers whose

reverend eyes Sango beheld.

Then Iku came visiting,

refusing to leave without your life as 

souvenir.

We ran to Osun abiamo orun, 

to Ogun our dogs we beheaded,

to Esu odara our grieving hands did 

not offer adin,

All to placate Iku’s stony heart.

Sango’s promises have failed us, 

even Orunmila looked on while 

Obatala laid in a drunken stupor as 

Iku 

whisked you away, darkness his best 

ally

Alabi, Alabi, you have gone home, 

leaving me your wife behind

not even a backward glance as Iku led 

you away.

Now look down and tell me; have 

Tope Oni

Smoke Rings my prophecies long foretold 

not come to pass?

Will you now not bite your fingers in 

regret?

Tell me if you will not nod your head 

like an agama 

that huffs and puffs 

though with a show of mastery 

of the white man’s stick

slowly, ever so slowly dragged the life 

out of you.

Now that you sit with the gods

 and see all,

will you not agree with me 

that white man has finally sent 

you on an errand of no return?

Alabi! Alabi! Answer me!

After all is said and done,

man takes his bow

and goes to his ancestral home.

Author: Tope Oni (09topsy)