Yusuf ‘Uthman Akintola

(Words for the Forgetting and the Forgotten)

Let me be and be that I am.
Let me be...

Let my wind gust
Across the murky space of fettered grievances
That the smothered progeny of letters
May be tugged free
And deposited at the epicenter of unhearing ears.

Let the interred flow
To this long-pinned ebb arise and come,
Coming in running splashes of jumping rivulets,
To bespatter snares of slumber
That clad murdered clamours
As though blisters on a shining cloth.

Let my pity-inhabited land,
Like the rays of the meddlesome sun,
Encroach the sea's domain,
To save crucified opinions
Poled on the lonely island of blood-laced trove of muffling gags.

Let my mountainous palms
That lord the Kilimanjaro
Spread open, letting away vagrant needs
Caged only within the vast mind's iron siege,
That my fingers,
Splayed as a plank that conquers a gutter's rift,
May be the hearing port of blaring words of pleading wants.

May I be?
May I be and be that I am?

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