22 March 2013

On Omeros

Perhaps a poem will come
from our voyage aboard Omeros
when in days of hell and brimstone
men will live inside themselves, men
with memoirs of life, tough work
in their eyes, images of you, Omeros
that the poet chose to pry open
our world ever at his fingertips,
like a virgin at the soft touch
of a look, or a word, or a sky
in the wake of a boat called Omeros
whose face is seared with love
and sails a deepening sea. So
shall I sway to the rhythm
of this quest, shall I listen to
your metaphors like a child. At times
your voice sings in the tongue
of your local Créole. For you know
we shall scamper aboard quickly
with boxes of life's promises, pens,
pencils, and still this excitement
when sails billow out with energy
like a girl's dress, a hunt-bird pecking
the top for fish that at times get away,
swooping down to pierce the surface
with the sword of its yellow beak,
while on the bridge we cry Omeros,
and make it one chant, the centre part
our captain keeps inside his heart.

1 comment:

Rethabile said...

A great poet and writer, Chinua Achebe, is no more. I'm touched by the sad news, and continue to write and post because that's what he taught me. Write.