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Usaniomenka Martin Obono

of

Ikeja, Nigeria

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Return Africa

by

Usaniomenka Martin Obono

I know you will come back and join us rejoicing under the fruitful tree of the seed of Abraham after whom all were blessed ....

Where is my inheritance?
In the den of vultures, the vultures of culture let loose from dungeons of cruelty, snuffing out all resemblance of light,
Destroying .........

Sweet mama Africa when shall you return from straying in the wilderness and wandering in desolate places, where youíve never found solace, truth and tranquility.

Cross over, through the same Atlantic route of slavery, and cross over in a kingly purple array back to roots and culture back to the hand of birth where the covenant was made where our fathers hunted and traced the footprints of the wild leopards where they bowed and called upon the most high

Ah! the sun still shines the rays of power still exists so come and be welcomed the tropical winds longs to feel you; she sings upon the tree tops and says,
Old Africa, young Africa Chant that song that long lost song of freedom which echoes from far beyond the graves of our great ancestors,

Let the drums be heard, only kongas, meant to say, let the song be sang in my native tongue remember, yawuna, yatumise let us hear from you the decrees for celebration of the ancient anew.

And I will dance and leap to the moon as it becomes brighter and brighter to the vibrating rhythm of the kongas and the gong, As the fragrance of our music which rises from the ground on which we stand brings down the presence of God,
Courtesy of our jubilation.


Went Too Soon

by

Usaniomenka Martin Obono


Walking slowly towards the banks of a
distant river, proceeding with a candle
in my hand that burns a sacrificial fire.

I know an Ocean separates us but we can interact through the
omnipresent wind.
Yes, the night is menacing, and still am here singing a song of
adieu composed in your own words

You said it was a sacrifice to go into the eternal night and
experience the path before us, as we live our lives not only in
memory but in the reality of whom you are .....

Havenít I seen your face? I heard your voice and felt your
touch but it all turned shadows, like the shadows that pass by
our windows at midnight _ and I still think you want too soon.

Usaniomenka Martin Obono