I am a 22 year old poet from sub-Saharan Africa -- an undergraduate who wants to be heard (little things can make giants nimble).
I give my life to the wind; to
the fossils, the spirit, and the earth.
I leave my thoughts to the termites that
linger beneath the sod, to the falcon in the
firmament, and to the animals that mate on
our planet floor.
To my mother: a word and a prayer.
I sew my being to her cosmos.
I am the planet, the weed, the bird, the
antelope, and the babe begotten by
To nature: I speak from naked thoughts — with
a primal mind and a void conscience. With
bare feet I tread — without cause or reason.
For loneliness is futile when corn sprout and
birds wait for harvest.
The harvest is within: like tubers within the
earth, like the mammoth decayed within the
grave, like my heart shelved within my ribs.
I leave the rib, the garment, and my lance to
the vultures and the sparrows of the Amazon.
To the crowd: I commit a dirge.
I take the hymn, the flute, and the lyric from
dead men, from monsters, from skirmished souls and
demigods raving in isolation.
To the bird, I commit a song; the seer, a
revelation; to the eagle, the eyes of an owl, the
Iguana, talons, and to my unborn child, a crown.
To the voice, I write an echo; the heavens, I
weave wonder; the gods, I commune with
And to poetry, I leave my soul.
©2014 Victor Ehikioya