I try not to think about her,
But I always do.
And when I do think about her,
I remember her smell first,
Her smell of curry and jollof rice.
I think of her glowing dark skin
That makes my spirit come alive.
I remember the way she dance
That makes the ìlèkè around her waist
To fill my ears with the popping sound
That fresh fish makes in hot oil.

I remember the way her dark skin glowed
To tempt a monk like myself.
And if you had seen the shùkù
That framed her lovely head
To bring out the color of her eyes
That is black like ẹyẹ that flies in the night.
I remember her strong hands
That is strong like the hand-carved staff
My grandfather likes to carry around.
Where are you, ẹyin ọjú mí?
That I may hold you and never let you go.


Ìlèkè - beads

Shùkù - African hair style.

Ẹyẹ - birds

Ẹyin ọjú mí - the precious treasure in my eye.

©Okunola Peace.