To the music that fills my head—

The musing of a tearful sun;

Headache of a still volcano.


To the lyrics that depart my tongue—

The lyrid of a proposed death;

Burns on an earthly skin.


To the drum my heart beats—

The damage on a thundered tree;

Rhythms of an icy fire.

Watch closely

The dance steps my legs make—

The lameness of a wounded soldier;

Drunkenness of a toddler.

If you can, sink in my silent musicship,

Sing my sorrowful lyrics as a song,

Beat my drum in its crudest tune,

And dance in exactness to these sounds.

You‘ll know that I need someone;

Who would understand my silence,

Who would mount and kiss my tongue,

Who would beat my fears out of courage’s path,

Who would carry my weight to safety— home.


Fadlullah Funmilola Balogun

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