Upon This Road I have been walking upon this road longer than I can remember, all I know is that I am a peripatetic mosaic of tales held in place by colourful tears and granulated dreams mixed with an adhesive of pains that sear me to the bone I cannot but notice the footprints that go from where I stand to the the place where the brown earth meets the azure sky. I don’t know the name of this road that I walk With hands stuck deep into the deepest pockets Just when I am about to sink to the earth a silhouette in the distance lends wings to my feet wings of hope, punctuated by many unfinished poems that soon fall apart, feather by feather down to the last plume. My silhouette is a man wizened by the years whose black beard had gathered many a speck of gray and sits without acknowledging my presence as though I were a statue of an Olympian god keeping watch over the city of Athens. “Wise one,I pray you,tell me what road this is that I’ve walked for many a day and many a mile” He looks at me bemused and answers “This road you walk is the coconut milk sweeter Than the hard nut we must all crack,now,be gone” I look in vain for coconut husks and palms with leafy crowns and testicles on their heads and continue with my trudging upon this road which is clear white coconut milk sweeter than the husky brown nut that must be cracked but all I see is this brown ribbon of earth I walk which is punctuated by sharp stones that sing songs of bloody lyrics to my sole(soul) I do not know that the road I walk is bitter leaf which my mastication of is punctuated by grimaces ,groans and endless sighs. I do not know too that this road is the dream I wrap my palms around and make it edible by squeezing it to death Do I need to be told by the roadside birds that the road I walk,dry and parched as it is a raging ocean,though sailed by all men is as uncharted as when it sprouted on the first morning? I laugh mirthlessly as I behold this brown,parched and dusty road which is also a raging ocean ferrying a flotsam of dreams, a milk of vain yearnings encased in a hard nut of curiosity, a leaf of green pain that must be squeezed to death and an array of hope-rising-in-vain silhouettes Like a spirit getting ready to descend from the black soil of this world to the red soil of heaven through an ant hole, I laugh a mirthless,metallic laugh at this road called life.
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- by JONATHAN OLADEJI
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The Winner for the Dec 2018, Freedom Magazine Awards is finally unveiled!