The Beginning: Part 4 of Idanre by Wole Soyinka

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 The Beginning

Read the Analysis of this Poem 

Low beneath rockshields, 

home of the Iron One 

The sun had built a fire within

Earth's heartstone. 

Flames in fever fits

Ran in rock fissures,and hill surfaces

Were all aglow with earth's transparency

Orisa-nla,Orunmila,Esu,Ifa were all assembled 

Defeated in the quest to fraternise with man

Read the analysis 

Wordlessly he rose,sought knowledge in the hills 

Ogun the lone one saw it all,the secret

Veins of matter,and the circling lodes

Sango's spent thunderbolt served him a hammer-head 

His fingers touched earth-core,and it yielded

To think,a mere plague of finite chaos Stood between the gods and man

He made a mesh of elements,from stone

Of fire in carthfruit,the womb of energics 

He made an anvil of the peaks,and kneaded

Red clay for his mould. 

In his hand the Weapon Gleamed,born of the primal mechanic

And this pledge he gave the heavens I will clear a path to man

His task was ended,he declined the crown

Of deities,sought retreat in heights.But Ire

Laid skilled siege to divine withdrawal.Alas

For diplomatic arts,the Elders of Ire prevailed; He descended,and they crowned him king

Who speaks to me in chance recesses Who guides the finger's eye

Now he climbs in reparation,who annointed

Godhead in carnage,O let heaven loose the bolts Of last season's dam for him to lave his fingers

Merely,and in the heady line of blood

Vultures drown.Merely,

And in the lungstreams of depleted pastures Earth is fattened.O the children of Ogun Reaped red earth that harvest,rain

Is childrens'reeds and the sky a bird-pond Until my god has bathed his hands

Who brings a god to supper,guard him well And set his place with a long bamboo pole

This is the analysis 

Ogun is the lascivious god who takes

Seven gourdlets to war.One for gunpowder, One for charms,two for palm wine and three

Air-sealed in polished bronze make

Storage for his sperms

My god Ogun,orphans'shicld,his home

Is terraced hills self-surmounting to the skics

Ogun path-maker,he who goes fore where other gods

Have turned.Shicld of orphans,was your shicld In-spiked that day on sheltering lives?

Yet had he fed when his primal task was done Fugitive from man and god,ever seeking hills And rock bounds.Idanre's granite offered peace And there he dwelt until the emissaries came - Lcad us king,and warlord.

Who speaks to me I cannot tell

Who guides the hammer's flight

Gods drowse in borcdom,and their pity

Is easy roused with lush obsequious rites

Because the rodent nibbled somewhat at his yam, The farmer hired a hunter,filled him with wine And thrust a firebrand in his hand

We do not burn the woods to trap

A squirrel;we do not ask the mountain's Aid,to crack a walnut