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 8^th 2011)