Death in the Dawn By Wole Soyinka

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 Death in the Dawn

By

Wole Soyinka

Traveller, you must set out

At dawn. And wipe your feet upon 

The dog-nose wetness of the earth.

Let sunrise quench your lamps. And watch 

Faint brush pricklings in the sky light 

Cottoned feet to break the early earthworm 

On the hoe. And shadows stretch with sap 

Not twilight's death and sad prostration. 

This soft kindling, soft receding breeds 

Racing joys and apprehensions for 

A naked day. Burdened hulks retract, 

Stoop to the mist in faceless throng 

To wake the silent markets- swift, mute 

Processions on grey byways....

On this

Counterpane, it was --

Sudden winter at the death

Of dawn's lone trumpeter. Cascades 

Of white feather-flakes... but it proved

A futile rite. Propitiation sped

Grimly on, before

The right foot for joy, the left, dread 

And the mother prayed, Child 

May you never walk 

When the road waits, famished

Traveller, you must set forth 

At dawn

I promise marvels of the holy hour

Presages as the white cock's flapped 

Perverse impalement as who would dare 

The wrathful wings of man's Progression.

But such another Wraith! Brother,

Silenced in the startled hug of

Your invention is this mocked grimace 

This closed contortion - I?