The day is young,
Full of life and stirring me up
Towards the river
that my father warned me about
Not once,
But every time, the banks vomited
One more lifeless body
and threw our town into mourning
that lasted till the river became less hungry
Today, my friend will lead us
to the forbidden place
where the fishes recede at our presence
and our pants fall in love with water
Till our skin becomes white
Then, we will we wait to get dry
As the drums and flute whistle
rhythms into our hears
while our bodies move in unplanned synchrony
Mobolaji is a writer, poet and an observer deeply interested in how words can uncover the abyss beneath the human experience.