Dreams; (the unheard tale of the African Child).

Silence is the voice they hear when I speak. Louder though I wail, yet no one seems to heed. Like muffles of a struggling man denying a forceful death, I quiver and quaver yet mercy remains unhinged. My yearnings in vein as the vane molests me. As I wander the rough dusty paths amidst these vast baobab trees. The odds hovering around me, like the winds billowing a tree. My head heavy, yet this heft soothes my weary dandruff itch. For these thorny branches be the resort upon which I feed. And stories upon stories I am told, yet not a single one befits me. Bout the tales of fairies and princesses, heroines and Queens. In a land far beyond beyond where my hopes cannot reach. Yet here I sit, adamantly waiting for the light to beam. The light which brightens upon the future, that future which I'm blinded to see. But in my sleep I see a dream, and in the dream I'm crowned a queen. Perhaps this is my wish beckoning me, yet not a chance I had waken to see. And then my mother's legacy untold to me, yet rendered down as if a glory I weaned. And my suffering, I am told, is the bright man's ideal. And so I wonder as to why a bright being would have a dark will. And further I wonder as to why my father could not own his ideals. Perhaps it's just a tale, one which is told to weaken my heels. Or perhaps it's a story in which my ancestral shame is concealed. And whence I go to fetch from the unsung heroes' stream. As I lean, therein a reflection of my dreams sprouts on a wavy screen. But then it floats away and farther away from me. Though within my reach, yet beyond my grip. And so I query, "whither the fate, that which I am determined to will?" Whither, I question, the destiny I am bestowed to fulfill. And though I rise to speak, but my voice remains too shrill. Lord do I pray, that someday my voice grows bold as steel. So the world which looks down upon me, may be blinded by my glistens and squeals. Thus I may end my ancestral ordeal. And redeem my glory, as I rewrite history in an indelible ink and with a perfect quill...

.

-Ibn Adam...

(This poem is dedicated to the African girl child).

Thrills of Love (The Eternal)...

Strains,
Far afar and yet it rains
In sprinkles of dreams that aches the brains
And blows the breeze that wanes the frames
And spreads the rays that illuminates the shades
Forever away, yet remains
The freer of souls, and the maker of slaves
Together we remain
Or forever we abstain
For the rights and freewill of the world we claim
Shall become the joy or misery of the life we proclaim
In strength, it lingers
And in weakness, it restrains
The caresser of hope, in moments of taints
The destroyer of confidence, when trusts are feigned
Though mortal in form,
Yet immortal it remains
...
Free free and forever free
For whomever you possess shall remain in spree
And in time it was said, "Let there be light",
You were set to breathe
And you said a prayer that was granted indeed
That no heart made of flesh shall overcome your greed
And so you swayed for eons and free
since thence the pen and the slate were safe in keep
Since the waters, the winds and the lands were in place to breed
Since the dooms were set ablaze to feed
And since the Gardens were spread to meet
Hence,
until eternity dies,
You shall remain our path,
either in merriments, or yet, in grief...
.
Ibn Adam...

Sun sets (in my rearview)...

Lights,
fast fading away
Green leaves,
gladly waving away
Fierce winds,
harshly blowing away
One minute,
I'm face in rays
Next,
I was turning away
"Why the haste, when I'll be returning again?"
A voice called,
but I can't see its face
"Is it East where you set your pace?"
As it echoed from a distance away
"Well then, I shall see you tomorrow, for there's where I stay"
And far and far and fast as I sway
My gaze was stocked in my rearview,
as my day looms away
For I heard, for the first time,
the Sun's lullaby,
that which was sang to lay the rays
.
Ibn Adam...

Mountains Call (The Hiker's prayer)...

Dear Lord of the mighty moulds
Hear me as I make this call;
In warmth, yet in cold
As I march to the valleys of the hilly roads
Lift me as I throw one foot in front of the toe
Here I come, once again, to explore
What wonders You have kept unknown;
And yet the stories You have held untold
Push me further now as I grow;
Push me higher up to the pointy glow
Show me that which only You and the winged have known
...
And to the greatest heights I set my journey
So give me the courage to fight my worries;
Hand me the strength to keep my bold
Rough or slippery, yet I shall hold
Cold or blazing or more I shall go
In fear I crawl;
And in bravery I throw
Farther and further and more I shall explore;
Every cave and every wonder You have kept in fold
In glaring sunny days;
Or in shady breezy paths I tour
...
Distance beyond distance and yonder I rally
At dusk or dawn I clamor Your glory
For my thirst and curiosity I must find a savory
Breaching the borders and the tides of memories
And in the end, fulfilled I shall return to my boundaries
So, safely, I ask that You may descend me
...
-Ibn Adam

Moments (again)...

Moments have come,
yet moments shall come again...
For moments gone are found in memories,
either in joy or in pain...
Life, they say, is a freefall of a freefall;
an endless slide into a baseless abyss
To what ends?
Yet no man can tell...
And the little bumps which seldom awakens,
only so one can appreciate the transient havens...
Just like a beautiful rhythm,
which momentarily dawns to define
existence
Briefly it comes and then it goes,
yet, it's gone naught away...
For in a blink or two it sets a footnote,
upon which one can trace its trail...
Random upon random of dust,
yet fate shall always find its way...
...
Alas!
In a bond of embrace
moments are made...
And in bids of farewells,
memories are framed...
Here then with you,
my moments of faith...
Here again without you,
the memories of my lonely days...

Ibn Adam

Moments (we wait)...

Far too long and yet we wait
In anticipation for a meaning we crave
For a journey in time we make...
Yet, what could we gain in time that never fades?
Is it the love, passion and adventures we trade?
Or the seasons we rejoice in turns and in faith?
Oh!
But little do we know, for when we stray
That those we hold in gladness and in rage;
Are they who define our moments of grace...
And though in whispers upon whispers we may sway
In their bliss, thus we regain our fray
The moments we desire art the glories of our days
Away they shall go
And here we shall wait
For time to renew the faces we embrace
Twinkles of the night shall sparkle in no vein
As long as we wait for the moments we fore-claim...

-Ibn Adam

Bridges...

And far beyond the rocky heap
a tiny path, but where does it lead?
To the land of wonders, fear and mystery...
Oh! Whither do we seek?
Along the trail, there and we meet
the 3 princesses of Hope, Love and Peace...
With misty voice, kindness and ease,
they called unto us to a generous treat
"come pick some groundnuts and eat"
and on their faces a remarkable radiant glee...
Would I, however, acted the same way on the tarred streets?
Would I have ushered them into the tiled walls and the marbled fleet?
Would I have offered them a glass of milk or a plate of meat?
Could I have remembered to even gesture a disdainful greet?
...
Bit and beyond on the path of 2 feet
then came along the "Jacob" of the noble creed
"Lo and behold" he clamoured, "bend down and pick"
"Pick therefrom that which God has blessed"
"Eat therefrom that which you so everly wish"...
"I shall be your host" he savoured
"I shall be your guide until you depart and leave"...
"may we share your shade?" we eagered,
"may we take refuge therein where you heed?"
And with all pleasure he took the lead...
Thense a frail yet gleeful arms welcomed us to a room amidst blissfilled trees
The abode of the old pauper, and "Duna", his feisty barking geek...
There we ate the roasted sweet
and thence we drank the uncleansed yet icey treat
That which kills instantly the itchy greed...
...
Alas!
What do we seek beyond this mighty bliss?
And what could we offer in return for this majestic deed?
Fairwell to you oh dear old and kind pauper
fairwell to the shades of the heavenly breezy trees...
...
And a bit ahead lies the hamlet with a perfect serene
The inhabits of Jacob and his ilks, the benevolents and keens
And with a warm and hearty welcome they embraced us with ease...
Yet in their cheerful faces was enshrounded a grieving pain and a craving need
And beneath the tree whilst we await our leave
Meeting the old man whom dwelled the trains to "Umu Afiya" was delightful indeed...
As he spoke to us of the gone days of remarkable peace,
we ate and drank their sweet tubers and groundnut soup for free...
...
Thus...
Far and beyond we have found the link...
A "Bridge" of love and fulfilment
of fear and mystery
and of all that we seek...
The link that sets aside all of man's difference and greed
The link that places him in order of his benevolence and worthy deeds
A bridge of conscience, morals and hope
and all of humanity's needs...

So far and beyond
and our quest shall go long as we seek...
Far and beyond
and we shall get to discover the treasures hidden deep beneath the wavy seas...

Ibn Adam