The toils of our heroes
When darkness took the throne,
silence became the day’s voice.
The tender gaze of the crescent &
stars—emitting faint glints
put us in the shape of a ball.
We espied our progenitors clothed
in scars from our elders’ mouths.
In the belly of thralldom,
they buried their heads.
A peek into the tomorrow’s soil,
the greatness it didn’t swallow
turned them into well-built drums
for the flail to happily dance on.
Their strife couldn’t wear tears from torture;
rather, it gifted its tears as manure to the soil.
These stories were waters
springing through my eyes,
sprinkling hope like a beam of light,
awakening the dead flowers.
This land! Sleep not!
Our heroes’ toils must live!
Contributor’s Bio
Aderibigbe Ikmot Olaitan, a Linguistics And African Languages student at Obafemi Awolowo University is a dedicated young poet who aspires to be better in the art. She has an intense passion for didactic poems and poems that dwell on human experiences.
What a beautiful work of art!
Yes, our heroes’ toils must live!
Kudos, poet!
I love the poet diction. Her way of wedging words is unprecedented. Kudos, Ọláìítán!