Of tender play rough on wet salt
stained skins mud on shins –
conquests of tree branches small
victories over bullies fruits’ taste
plucked ripe flowing tributaries
of drains paper boats & sky
peopled with kites of newspapers
èba & broomsticks – nothing is left.
Memory is hungry as time unwinds
picking crumbs moulding dreams
into reality replicating – nothing
is left yet the dung of living.
Osahon Oka is a Nigerian writer/poet, who journeyed into writing in his search for truth and light. While his writing no longer serves as therapy, he finds in it, an understanding of life, whether human or wind. He enjoys reading, writing, listening, watching clouds and being by himself. His works can be found in several literary journals and anthologies. He has his debut, a collection of short stories forthcoming on Praxis Books.
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