Black Magic
I am black magic, sprouting out of dark humus
The Shaman was Mother Earth, I was birthed strong
Black earthen pots on fire made from wet woods, smoking
And a forest of leaves sprinkled into water from Osun’s river
Cowries from the riverbank where Ogun took his bath hung around mother’s neck
As she pushed me out, aided my the concoction to ease me into life’s ocean
The Ìbíwéré leaf was dipped into the steaming pots of black everything
And I wailed as the moisture hit my unaccustomed flesh.
I opened my eyes and smiled at my Shaman, I was enlightened
I began to crawl alongside chameleons, I learned fast
I walked with apes in search of fruits, I hate and purged
I ran the jungle with the wilds in search of goals
I flew occasionally with the raven in search of peace but gravitate back to hops like the ostrich, head in sand.
After every hectic travails, going home was a relief
Especially when I had a game or two to gift Mother Earth
She didn’t necessarily ask but I felt obliged to
And I could see the glint in her eyes as she smiled
Handing me the Àtùpà and a black soap and Épín leaf
To wash the dirt off my skin so my black glowers
And when I was done eating the fruit of my labor
And finished drinking from the moon’s silvery tears
Mother Earth told me a story of courage and fear
That man is constantly in awe of himself and the universe
That man wishes to know but don’t know how
And in a desperate effort to understand what he knows not, he loses self
And unlike black magic he withers into oblivion
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