To Chris Okigbo

To Chris Okigbo

Through the lunar mist
Of the Ruwenzoris
I hear
the distant drumming
At Heavensgate.
And vainly call out
To soil, the witch!

Through the hazy dusk
of words
I see
You defiant face.
Jealous guardian of mouldy heights
Of clay that buried you.
And I cry
Again, to soil, the witch!


Open the gates of mbari
You lived to mark edges
Around poet dom.
But planted tombstones
Around your mortal self.

You crucified the poem
But the smouldering ash
By your tomb
Lights a naked silhouette
Before mother Idoto.

otienoamisi