Dedication to Ukamaka

Mercy O Merciful!
On my prim soul in agony
A woeful reverie called today
And a heavenly gentle sleep I saw
Carry you far away
O what can in Fate's eye be
Of what a vision false and I
Sullen as a dead tree leaf
With only a soul, a mere wee
Soul inactive in a shallow sea?
A godless soul would die as dregs
In my scathing pitiless pain
Were I not that drop of foggy milk
Then into a fetus lump and I
In your warm glorious grave
Was shaped with bones and flesh
And when first I breathed on earth
I made for fear a twofold wail
From strange meddling force, my tender
Spirit afloat and your genial soul
Unbosomed boundless spring of hearty love
A mighty soul and weak fleshy mould
No teeth to sneer or bite a fool
No fist to fight or hold a foe
No eye nor ear nor nose to feel
Not even a tongue to taste or abuse
O a mighty soul and mere weak flesh
As tiny tot, I had my weak vim
All from that sacred teat, your sweet self
Stood a non-pareil single backer
And gave me your warm wings to perch
And smothered my tender crying-lips
With soft soothing and motherly kisses
With angelic songs, lulling and soothing
You carried me out with extra care
Under the azure village sky to feel
The breathing breeze of my home
And watch the beautiful gentle dance
Of the beautiful star-dogged moon
At twelve my boyish aching joy grew
When for welfare, you went outland
And did duly dispatch fat boon
And came weekly to look at us
Beholden to you I took dauntless
Impulse in search of knowledge
For your uncountable benefactions
To learn how to serve and repay
Afield for over three square years
To here where I was flung by lot
Here where I cannot choose nor say
Here where I am painted and called
By many sorts of filthy nicks
And no-cause curses for I have
Left my home-my dear dear home
I am Sammaarah and Zoul
They curse me Ibn Wiskhi and Zift
More painful Kusummak, they say
O lost have I my motherly pride
Lost have I my fatherly thews
Lost have I my physical shape
More lost have I my dialect's brogue
Nothing my meager purse can hold
Feel I light-headed, my heart bleeds
Lonesome and strange, I am belittled
When sick, when hungry or sad
When in dearth, in agony or fear
Where are those motherly cares, who asks?
My whole inward, my whole self
Ploughs through these harrowing conditions
With great difficulty
How many times have I shed tears?
In spirit, how many times my fair
Weakened heart has thawed in sadness
For solace home-idylls, your sweet lays
(Slow and steady wins the race
Patience and decency wins success
Life is hope and hope is life…)
Have been fine lullabies
To you alone have I turned many times
And wept calmly to chasten my eyes
That they may see and read and learn
The best of what will be my sword
Never had passed a day and kept away
That memory of filial care from me
Better had I trod the deepest sea
And get me drown with unforeseen smile
And share my carcass sleazy and vile
To feast the sharks and cats of the sea
Than make a cant of your worthy She
If this mind should willfully a day
Swim across a distressful thought
Or ring a bell of faithlessness
In you mother, however slim
My end as vowed sordid and grim
Days shall come, surely days shall come
When I will reap - God be You Great
The ripe fruits of these crawling toils
These thorns of life
Then your sterling son shall I be
So let linger the crushing pain
Of assured decline
Tarry O inevitable end! Until
A toast of joy you taste, O dear mum
From that unforgettable tempestuous travail
But do not cast me off your mind
For all I plead to live unharmed
In a nest in your bosom broad
Muhammad Ajah is a poet, author, advocate of humanity and good governance based in Abuja E-mail: [email protected]