Of spirits and dance steps

The dance of the spirits is sublime

Rhythms floating just floating above the din

So you have to ignore other calls

You have to ignore the calls of jackals

And the wails of the late night owl

You have to concentrate every fibre

To follow its gyrations from the soulful

To the forceful and then somewhere in between

You strain every sinew to follow the rhythm 

Which your neighbour doesn’t hear

And your brother doesn’t hear 

But you are sure, 

Very sure you hear the beats in the hot noon

And in the serene evening

Calling you to partake in the dance of the spirits

Whose steps you cannot see

Though you can hear the prattling of their soles

Rustling amongst the dry leaves

Amongst the startled birds too wary

To dance the dance without drummers

The steps of the spirits are heavy and soft

Sometimes soulful and sometimes forceful

But you can’t see them

And you can’t tell when they are just nodding

Or when they are kicking the earth

So your sinews struggle to align

With the movements you can’t see

Even though you are very sure

They have called you to the dance,

This dance of the spirits.

The six blind men went to court

The six blind men went to court

As they were told to do

When their eyes were gouged

For looking too closely at the sore

In the bosom of the emperor

For saying the emperor was naked 

And his sore infested with maggots

The first blind man came with his counsel

As they were told to do

And a retinue of other blind men

Whose eyes were also gouged out

For looking too closely at the mud

That were the feet of the emperor

And seeing that the mud could be broken

With nothing more than a stick and a shove

The first blind man and his counsel

Saw that the justice was blind

And didn’t see the emperor

As he paraded naked down the royal path

And so could not restore a sight

That claimed to have seen a sore

A sore on the bosom of the emperor.

The second blind man came with his advisers

As they were told to do

And a raucous crowd of other blind men

Long blinded with hot flames thrust into their eyes

For proclaiming the blasphemy 

Of the emperor eating the sacrifice meant for the gods

Sacrifice of the blood of young ones 

Desperate for hope that the future will come

The second blind men and his advisers

Saw that the justice held a scale

But the scale had holes

And the weight of the blood of the young

The sacrifice the emperor ate

Flowed right through the scales to spatter 

On the feet of Justice 

And Justice could not weigh the hope

And the sacrifice of the young

The third blind man came with his cleric

As they were told to do

And a solemn retinue of other blind men

Reciting prayers to a god they were not sure 

Was the ones that blinded them in the glare of the sun

Without the eyelids and without their prayer books

So they could were not quick enough to pray

For the emperor who needed no prayers anyway

The third blind man and the cleric

Saw that justice was rooted to the slab

And could not move despite their prayers

Being only a sculpture made by a mad sculptor

And left to decorate the emperor’s court

In the rain and in the shine of each day

And not taking a step to find the emperor

Or his prayers

The fourth blind man came with his tribesmen

As they were told to do

With blind tribal warriors ululating in their wake

Striking their chests in the fake courage 

Of those who thought they were fighting for their tribe

When the emperor had usurped their tribe

And appropriated the sight of they and their ancestors

The fourth blind man and his blind tribesmen

Saw that justice was a woman

Already seduced by the wiles of the emperor

Justice had no appreciation of their bravery

Nor of their honour  nor their tribal chants

While considering the pleasures of sharing

In the emperor’s turgid member

The fifth blind man came with his purser

As they were told to do

With blind usurers clutching their bags of gold

Saying they could ascertain by touch 

That the clay coins of the emperor were indeed priceless gold

Setting up there shops to trade the soil he stepped on

And exchanging their gold for dung left by the emperor

The fifth blind man and his purser

Saw that justice indeed took their gold

Hid it behind her robes and asked them for more

Because justice has also received gold

From the emperors pursers

Who owned the land and the gold there in.

The sixth blind man came alone

As they were told to do

With no one to sing his praise

Or cry with him because all the men in the land

Could no longer walk, nor see nor talk

The sixth blind man came alone

And sat at the feet of the justice

Who is stuck in the slab of concrete

Whose scales had holes still dripping with the blood of hope

Justice that was also blind and beloved of the emperor

The sixth blind man sat and slowly froze

And atrophied and became like the justice

But even worse

For his soul still remembered

The emperor did have a sore on his bosom.

Day or dream

If it is only a dream

Then I am not worried

Because I will wake up

And shake it off

Like a snake sloughing off

The skins of the last season

Leaving the frets 

Where they fell

And slithering away

Coffee in hand to confront my fears

Oh yes, it was a dream

Just too long in unraveling 

And waking up is into 

Another dream world 

Where the time goes backward

And I am not sure 

I am growing old

Or just growing poorer

In time and in pocket 

But may be day 

has actually come

And the smell of coffee

And bacon is real

The toasted bread is real too

But it is served on the balcony

Of our neighbor

While we count the biscuits

Left over from before the dreams

Just may be

It is neither day  nor dream. 

When the spirits have a limp

Our fathers told us 

And we believed 

That the spirit is behind the mask

The spirits of our ancestors

Who receive the libations 

And eat the kola nut before it is shared

Our fathers told us

Of the dragons our ancestors slayed

And we dance to the songs

That celebrate their might on moonlit nights

We pride our selves 

As the children of giants

So the masks and the spirits

Garlands our prestige

And struts our heritage 

In the market place

For the old to nod their heads

And the young to glow with pride

Until  now 

The music is the same

And the masks are the same

But the spirits have a limp

And our children are wondering

No, they are looking at us

Like we are liars

Was it the limp that slew the dragon?