How My Father Spends His Nights

My father spends his nights
listening to the mirthless echo of birds
that whet their beaks on our rusty roof.
He spends his nights brooding about
the virulent plague that spreads like wildfire
across our land, the cities that bear
the stripes of chaos, and the bodies of kinsmen
that wear the cologne of discomfort.

My father spends his nights in
a house downtown, talking about the
corona epidemic that hits the world,
the emptiness of streets once effervescent,
the buildings standing all tall by themselves 
accompanied by empty shadows, the lives
being eaten into oblivion, and the dreams
dying on their way to fulfillment.

My father spends his nights
trying to save his family from
the dread of death, from the disaster
that threatens to snatch our life. He spends
his nights stretching his thoughts
into moments of ecstasy, pondering on how
to make it through the gloomy days
and survive the struggles of Covid times.

Memories of My Father under a Moonlit Sky

Last night, the moon wore a smile that lit up the sky;
I lay under it & the stars in my heart began to shine.
My mother sat beside the embers of an abandoned firewood,
& recounted the scars of history growing beneath her skin.
She said to my sister with an empty lamp yearning for a fill of oil,
That a man becomes a symphony when he walks through a body of songs.
I suppose she misses my father with the passion of the wind
& her heart longs for him with the lonely patience of the moon.
My father is a map that bears the names of distant cities.
He holds the memory of faces that bear the traces of the earth.
Last month before he journeyed on a trip down south,
I asked him how a man glues himself in places as mosaics of wonderment,
He smiled and quenched my thirst for knowledge with a tale,
A teary tale of how a desert became green & lush with many flowers.

The Year of Black Axe Massacre, 1999

1
Then…

We walked on the streets of lighted candles,
Tying our tongues to the lyrics of dirges,
To the verses of eulogies rendered to our clan
Whose bodies wore darkness on a bloody night.

We sang of the fury of avenging winds
While our hearts melted into a heap of sighs
Over the scares of clubs & threats of daggers
Displayed by jungle justices of belligerent beings.

We searched the sky for the eyes of the gods,
Hoping to see through the teardrops of their empathy
And console the sullen souls of bereaved mothers
Who spent their night gnashing in the fists of griefs.

OGEDENGBE TOULOPE IMPACT

Ogedengbe Tolulope Impact is a Nigerian poet. His poem “Tell Them” was a shortlisted poem at the 7th Korea-Nigeria poetry feast, 2017. His works have been published in Pangolin Review, Amandasteelwriter, Words Rhymes & Rhythms, Wax Poetry and Art, Porridge Magazine, Sub-saharan Magazine, Rising Phoenix, and elsewhere. He tweets @fruitfulimpact.