The Song of Oluadah

A Poem I wrote a couple of years ago

The Song of Oluadah

Said Oluadah's Father:

Oluadah! Oluadah!
My son, my son!
Where are you?
Who took you away?
Oluadah! O Oluadah!
They say a white man dragged you away
and you walked on the water
and went away.
Say it is not true
Oluadah! Oluadah!

Said Oluadah:

Father! O Father!
I do not wish to say Goodbye
My children must know you
and I do not wish to go away
What shall I tell these men, O Father?

Said Oluadah's Father:

Oluadah! O Oluadah!
My son!
I wish to see your children
and their children
I wish to stroke their eyebrows
I wish to hold them to my chest
Do not go, my son!
Do not go!
Oluadah! Oluadah!

Said Oluadah:

Father! O Father!
They say I shall go to Savannah
They say I am worse than the dog
who died of sores in the village
These chains hold me to the wood
and I rock with the water
Can I not drown, O Father?
Can you not teach me how, O Father?

Said Oluadah's Father:

Oluadah! O Oluadah!
Come back my son!
Your mother grieves, your sister cries
The village is dark
Your friends dash their heads
against silent trees
asking for you
what shall I tell them, Oluadah?
What shall I tell
the leaves and the birds, Oluadah?

Said Oluadah:

Blood stains the rocking wood, O Father
So many die,
so many wish to die
I can hear them throw their bodies
and the sharks feast lazily
And ahead of us, I can hear
the sharks swim
waiting for my unborn children
Where are you, Father?
Where are you?

Said Oluadah's Father:

Oluadah! O Oluadah!
Come back, my son!
Take the chicken, take the yam
take the ripened fruit
what use are they to me without you?
Oluadah!

Said Oluadah:

O Father!
They have tied a rope
around my neck
They have chained me to the planks
I have died
though they say they shall
sell me alive
No longer shall I see you, O Father!
No longer shall I sleep under your tree, O Father!
No longer shall I eat the ripe yams, O Father!


And you shall not hold your Grandchildren, O Father!

Oluadah! Oluadah!