it’s the dance of the child or so they said
in the folklores…
they could look into your eyes and see beyond…
their voices were loud in Olodumare’s ears,
in things as delicately woven,
and symmetrically balanced as a man-woman affair,
they remain as uncouth.
as unknowing as the frogs on the bank.
they flow with the tide, when they hold the paddles in hands
and watch a storm blow them away
when they could easily decide their fate…
as frogs on the bank,
these look but may never really see
till it might be too late.
they have the ears of Olodumare!
such an irony.