Borrowed Shine
The village is a pilgrimage of all flesh,
We will always visit,
Even when its children flee like bees,
Toward greener promises and louder suns,
We will always dance home at the hour.
Abandoned, yes by all,
Entrusted to the hands of age,
To retired bones and patient breaths,
Who keeps watch when youth forgets to see the sunset,
But only the towering lights.
The village humbles every pride,
Collects all its due from kings and clerks alike;
No relevance outruns its quiet reckoning.
For its wisdom displaces, every city fly.
This soil is a holy ground,
Ancestors still whisper beneath its dust,
Their names stitched into paths and shrines.
Only her beautiful calm knows where it hurts.
In the end,
The city with all its borrowed shine,
Dazzling like the sun,
Returns tired or motionless,
Planted, silenced,
From every glamorous dance of the city.
#GodsonOsarenren #naijapoetryfest #poetry
