OPEN YOUR GRAVE Ebu, Ebu, my mother’s daughter Mama says when she dies, Ebu, Ebu I should find paw paw seeds and plant on Her grave, Ebu, Ebu Wherever the branches lead to, Ebu, Ebu I should follow the path to you, Ebu, Ebu OGOSHI’S VOICE Mama, mama Where are you I have found Ebu Mama, please where are you Are you in the sky? Are you in the stars Are you in the grave? Are you in the groove? Are you still drifting? Oh mama Please answer your son Open your grave The world is blistering cold The dagger of life is too sharp The night is too dark Mama, please come out You are my light You are my height You are my shelter You are my mother Open your grave I have fond Ebu EBU’S VOICE Mama, please open your grave We are here Your son is here Your daughter is here I even brought your grandchildren Otusha and Oneshi Please mama, open your grave Do you not recognize our voices? Do you not recognize my voice? Mama please wake up now Why are you beneath the earth? Why are you in a grave? Mama, are you dead But you told me you would not die You promised me you could not die Oh mama Please mama, open your eyes now Open your grave and meet your granddaughters Otusha has your eyes Oneshi has your height OGOSHI’S VOICE Mama, mama Ah! mama Where is your flesh? Where is your hair? Why is your head bald? Why is your bone naked? Why is your lung empty? Why is your head bald? OGOSHI BROKE DOWN ON THEIR MOTHER’S GRAE AND WEEP The dead of a mother is bitter Oh the dead of a mother is bigger If you have not lost a mother You have not really tasted bitterness Oh the dead of a mother is really bitter Does pain really exist? Does love really exit? What is death? Who is death? Now that I am orphaned Nowthat we are off hand Now that mama is in a foreign land Where is God and the angels? Where is the life He promised us in the ending? Give mine to my mama EBU GATHERED ONESHI AND OTUSHA TO HER BREASTS AND GRIEF The dead of a mother is bitter Oh the dead of a mother is really bigger If you have not lost a mother You have not really tasted bitterness Oh the dead of a mother is really bitter She gathered Oneshi and Otusha to her breasts and weep She tell tale of her mother, their grandmother She told them of her grind stone She narrated about her pottery She recited the recipe of her cooking She whispered her name to the wind The time of our lives is a chronicle We are born, we live and we die And whatever happens next is still Life’s biggest mystery.
Posted on: Wed, 26 Mar 2014 17:11:14 +0000
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