All land ends at the sea:
All matter, including non-living
The sea was our birth
In death, after all joy, sorrow and pain is spent
The sea then beckons us to return
Recycled like a hurricane’s eye
Who knows what next we will become
Would we even care at all?
One thing that’s constant in an African home is family. You’re nothing if you don’t have one, and it’s hard for any man to journey though life without the thought of having a family, whether past or present. What’s most important though in a Nigerian family home is tracing a family’s root to the myth of time.
Adam loved the earth:
The trees on her breasts
The rivers that succored her valleys
Out of her womb sprung a seed:
His Apple tree.
“My darling, my love,” she muttered in his ear:
Plant, feed, nourish
Love, comfort and cherish
These eyes that bare resemblance to thine
Heart and limb
And call him: Oranmiyan.