We were hatched perfectly like orphans.
They hardly had time for us,
right from when we were suckling
we rode on the turbulent wing of the wind;
we were nomadic and no rest for our souls
fiery darts will assail in the night,
left alone with our crux and cross.
Defenseless from the wintry wrath,
and spineless to sizzling summer’s scourges
while the Shepherd isn’t there,
wolves came to sow enmity within the fold
and left with nothing to hold.
People scan us day and night,
to unmask our mortal strains
even in the deepest part of the cave–
yes, the gods are not to blame
from birth we nestled sweetly with loneliness,
even Mars couldn’t fight our inner war
full moon since you have gone;
while the young sun is yet to recover
from your missions and adventures.
Our Odysseus has gone out of us like virtues,
but mount on the Trojan horse and return,
do return to your pristine first love
the tender embrace of the caring breast
missed you as death can’t do without life,
and life would be miserable without death.
-By Gbenga Fayemiwo of Lagos, Nigeria