When The Storm Is Over

Just about everyday I get an e-mail from my African Lit professor. He often sends us poems he has just written, or poems he has written in the past that are relevant to what is going on in our lives somehow. This is an e-mail from brother Padmore today, I felt it worthy of sharing:



Folks,

you are all in my thoughts but just busy thinking of too many things. Bear with me.



WHEN THE STORM IS OVER
by Padmore Agbemabiese



when the storm is over
those who took us for what we are
will live to rejoice with us
what they never knew we were
and those who rejected us for what we were
will live to tell their friends
what good it was they missed in us



and when the storm crosses over
those who despised our huts
will miss a world of fortune
given only to kings and queens
and those who derided the slippers we wore today
will announce to their friends
how well new shoes fit onto our feet



some day, when this storm is over
those who refused the embrace of our short arms
will live to tell the world how much love
radiated from the short hugs we gave
and those who believed only because they saw
will tell generations the near-misses they bagged
just for striving to see contents before boxes



and when finally the storm settles down

the wisdom of the ancients
that always lay beneath the earth
that to the world is unseen shall manifest

there we shall dance to rhythms unfathomed

walk with verve and agility weaving intricacies

between our feet and our upper torsos

there, 'those who took away our songs’

will remember they couldn't ‘take away our voice’



and when the story shall be told

names never mentioned at the King’s table

nor decorated with diadems shall rise

we shall marvel with dry lips

and wonder with our bald heads at Truth

and those who despised our huts

and refused the embrace of our short arms

will weep when we dine with the King all night long


Warm regards

Padmore Enyonam Agbemabiese