Who Will Bear Me My Sons
I stood beneath the morning tree
My bag is full of dreams
My scabbard of war heavy with hungry arrows
I'd counted the stars last night
The moon was missing in the sky
I'd met an egret trailing down the forest road
And a squirrel straying into the hunter's path
These, they say, are signs of good fortune
I am the warrior travelling in the West wind
Sweeping over high hills and low lands
Sacking Kingdoms and conquering thrones
Yet beneath this morning tree
A famished ray of truth dribbled through
In faint whispers I heard myself say
Who will fire my guns when I'm gone?
Who will bear me my sons?
© Olatuja Oloyede
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