Let the sky fall on my head and be heavier than this thought.
I am talking about a feeling in search of how a nation cries
like it is in search of dead leaves.
Mold grow on our skin as fungi from our pain,
I wonder | I reel | hold me!
My country is me in my dream: facing a door in darkness,
too scared to go through to success.
this poem a ritual prayer to the heart of God
with voice cracked from speaking in tongues. Husky.
Complex. Call salvation to sing us a lullaby of peace
because there is a way songs eat pain into the nothingness of thin air
to become memories of time passed, like pictures on walls basking in dust.
Large. Small. Medium. Kaleidoscope of a hope collection
Buried deep in the verses of expectation that bullets would
cease to laugh at our backs, as we bow, waiting.
In the wake of salvation.
Oladeji Mayowa Oluwasegun writes plays and poems from Zaria in Northern Nigeria, where he is engaged in his graduate studies in Theatre and Performing Arts.
Mayowa self-published a poetry collection titled Bleeding Moon in 2019, and he has been published on the Kalahari Review, Praxis Magazine, and other literary platforms.
He enjoys the trills from silence loudness, travelling, pictures and reading. Mayowa handles freespaceartists.blogspot.com, a blog dedicated to project art for the benefit of society. He uses the address @penfreaq on twitter.