Okro Farm Poem by Chima Ononogbu

A little boy I was, many years ago,
Mama woke me up, at cockcrow,
To go to the farm, with her and my sister.
But I hated to go; the farm I loved,
But it took my sleep away
And stole my dreams ----
Where like the eagles I flew, and with my friends I played.
This offense and more, the farm I hated.

O farm, you took my sleep away and stole my dreams!
You knew this not, so I felt alone the pain.
The long walk to you, like eternity it felt.
The path to your heart, rough and rocky
And littered along your way, twigs of birches;
Blinded by trees low-hanging leaves, my feet I cast against stones.

In the month of rains,
At the bathing of the earth, the ridges drowned,
Turning the rivers into makeshift oceans,
And the paths became swampy traps, that trapped
My feet, and make me fall, again and again.

That morning, fairly ordinary, much as I can remember.
Tucked away under my warm quilt, faking
sleep
And hoping still, mama would let me be, and so kind
To let me sleep, and go back to my dreams,
Where I was an eagle and flew with my friends
On trees whose branches my air, and their yellow,
The scalp of St. John's Church ---
At the back of the hills whose head,

A crown over my little hilltop hamlet ---
Across the river blue, where the ducks made a cross.
There, we would play, until the sun shuts its eyes.
But today, the farm placed a call urgent to ignore,

That mama and I, must come to hoe.
Moments later, from the hallway roared Mama's voice,
Waking the bees and rolling the hays.
Now, over it was, my dream and my play, yet my mind
Abandoned, underneath the quilt.
Mama and I knew, I didn't want to go ---
The farm took my sleep and stole my dreams.