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
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
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
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