Friday, July 8, 2011

In the light of wisdom

In the light of such wisdom,
I am found wanting

There was a rusty kerosene lamp
of which my bubu had inordinate pride
He kept it lit
at his bedside mat
beside the firelight at night
I’d always wondered
why he’d bothered
to keep that relic of times long past
He’d always wondered why I’d asked
for his purpose seemed sure enough
And although my MagLite made him gasp
he said, “Such items come to pass.”
Awash in fire and lamplight both
we’d sit together of a night
ruminating on each the other’s plight
Mine modern – carefree, careless curiosities
His ancient – careworn, careful custodianship
On those brightly lit city streets
of which I had inordinate pride
no need for torch or kerosene light
beside the television light at night
too tired to ponder
why even bother
to regard such technological badges
those wondrous gizmo’s and cool gadgets
for my purpose seemed sure enough
And although my modernity makes me laugh
He said, “Such items come to pass.”
Awash in streetlamps and car beams both
there are no quiet sitting places
every rambling soul has a lonely plight
in a bright lit city with its haunted inhabitants
or a village hut darkened by my bubu’s ghost.
A poem by Michael Dom
Dedicated to Soaba’s Storyboard
(Courtesy of the National Weekender June 8th 2011)