A Pensive Song (For Juwon)

Where is the boy that shook hands with me
Two full moons ago;
My adopted brother whose blood
Spiritual courses my veins?
Where is the boy that shook hands with me
That flashed a smile;
So full of warmth,  it drove me insane?

Stop.

Mama Dele told me that Tunde told her
That Funsho told him that Lade told him
That the boy is dead.

Yepa! Iro ni!
Get thee behind me Satan!
Juwon shall not die but live!
No weapon fashioned...
No wea...

Mama Dele told me that Tunde told her
That Funsho told him that Lade told him
That the boy is dead;

Could this be true?
Could it?

**********************************

The campfire burns                brightly
And we,  jocund like children who have found
Chocolate island dance round the flames,
Deaf to the muffled wails of the firewood;
The charring, the charring
Then the ash.
The ash,  the ash
Then the Darkness
Then our feet having lost navigation,
Atrophied by fear of the Dark
Both remember;
        There was a flame,
        And ends, thus, our senseless sway.

Death, O Death!
You have plucked an unripe fruit
And I hope it burns your tongue
Corrodes your lungs, chars your thumb:

DEATH, I WISH THAT YOU WOULD DIE!
DEATH, I WISH THAT YOU WOULD DIE!
DEATH, I WISH THAT

                                      YOU WOULD DIE!

Consoled I am,
                   by only one thought
That our Juwon is heaven-bound.