Ouédraogo: memory of my Papa

i
Concocted dictum
Failed to erase the trails
Of your loins
That fell on the perilous dust
ii
Thunderstorms razed the harvests
And bushfires emptied the barns
We ate fallen grains from the flying birds
iii
Night was ours to sleep apart
Straw mat, my bed
You warmed panned market-tables
Infested with pungent
And perfumed with rotten fishes
Graced by the anopheles
Soiled by downpours
Not uncommon to tropical Africa!
iv
Morning dew on foot paths
Fell off the foliage
In your farm garments, they were scooped
I followed in measured toes.
v
Like the downpours in June
We gathered our hopes together
For endless tales to share someday
vi
A decade and three ago
Before the corn was roasted
Endless departure, you vented
vii
The gem of your loins
Is looking at your tomb
With summer goggles
On the other side
Where white skin blends with nature’s black
To adore the shades of life
Yet, disregard for our kins
Is the order
Hidden on the fringes of our gaze!
viii
Back home
Mma is cooking tuo-zaafi
Can we munch morsels?
Will there ever be semblance?
ix
Home is sorrow
We live in parted gates
Yet, we’ve birthed souls to perpetuate you
x
Home, I shall return
To speak to your ears
At your grave
To the glory of your labour
xi
You, I am not forgetful
A sojourner, your values, my carriage
xii
I am searching for the reincarnate treasure
That will be an emblem of your name
On the tombs of the living!
xiii
Adieu, Ouédraogo!
xiv
You’re the marksman!
I follow the shades
Stoic in the tempests!
xv
Adieu, my Papa!
....
Adama Bukari
25/05/2015
CET 13:07
Somewhere in Europe