Night by Wole Soyinka

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Your hand is heavy, Night, upon my brow,

I bear no heart mercuric like the clouds, to dare

Exacerbation from your subtle plough.

Woman as a clam, on the sea’s crescent

I saw your jealous eye quench the sea’s

Fluorescence, dance on the pulse incessant

Of the waves. 

And I stood, drained

Submitting like the sands, blood and brine

Coursing to the roots. Night, you rained

Serrated shadows through dank leaves

Till, bathed in warm suffusion of your dappled cells

Sensations pained me, faceless, silent as night thieves.

Hide me now, when night children haunt the earth

I must hear none! These misted calls will yet

Undo me; naked, unbidden, at Night’s muted birth