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 Olokun by J. P. Clark

 

 

I love to pass my fingers

(As tide thro' weeds of the sea

And wind the tall fern-fronds)

Thro' the strands of your hair

Dark as night that screens the naked moon:

 

I am jealous and passionate

Like Jehovah, God of the Jews,

And I would that you realize

No greater love had woman

From man than the one I have for you!

 

But what wakeful eyes of man,

Made of the mud of this earth,

Can stare at the touch of sleep

The sable vehicle of dream

Which indeed is the look of your eyes?

 

So drunken, like ancient walls

We crumble in heaps at your feet;

And as the good maid of the sea,

Full of rich bounties for men,

You lift us all beggars to your breast.