Notes at Your Graveside

By Babatimehin Aṣíwájú

for Prof. Ayo Olukotun, my uncle.

​i. 
sand to sand;
        ashes to ashes;
                     & dust to dust;
******
ii. 
once again, mother earth eats her child.
cruel mother! swallowing the carcass 
of her children whole. your lifeless body is being lowered 
into the ground. & the organist plays a solemn
hymn on his instrument. standing at your graveside,
all the ones you ever loved. tears...& tears…& I
become unsure of which it is: should a man not die?
or should a man not love?

*******
iii.
how I have weaned myself from whimpering
when eating from the fruit of the grief that ripens 
at the stool of your grave. I promised myself
not to do this. not to empty my grief 
into the mouth of another poem. but this is how I mourn
my dead: I carve a poem in their likeness. 
& chew it until it becomes incense, floating
into the afterlife like the spirit of a solemn song.

********
iv.
here, standing at your graveside, I fight back
the surging Nile behind my lids from spilling over.
into the next line of the story. & again…& again...I stand 
unsure of which it is: 
should a man not cry? 
or should a man not be seen crying? 

********
v.
in the background, the organist plays a solemn song;

"strong man, don't cry
strong man, don't cry
you are your father's son…"

Writer's Biography
Babatimehin Aṣíwájú is just another (lost) boy/who seeks refuge in poetry.
He has works published/forthcoming in Brittle Paper, Kalahari Review, African Writer Magazine, and Synchronized Chaos.