Poetry

Marie Frechon/UN photo

By

Oluwapelumi Francis Salako

Lost boys

for boys like us

who can’t find

the path home.

for boys like us

who can’t recognize

the sound of home bell

for boys whose

palms have no lines.

boys with bare chests.

and little feet.

never lose sight of yourself.

wear your country on your skin.

like your father’s old coat

search within yourself when you need light.

there’s a fire within you that eats darkness

you are not alone in your struggles.

I am your brother in arms.

give yourself to the air

& watch your body levitate

be your pill and your succor

there’s a miracle beneath your skin

you can never be lost

home is there in your heart

for boys like us hiding in my throat.

for Ope Adetayo, a fellow wayfarer

You know how empty it is

to walk alone on long solitary roads.

how your heart sizzles when you

you see paintings of familiar evils

and kindred hammocks, how

your mouth twitches when you

want to break into a run, but falls

endlessly into a pool of tears

walk into your stackings

when you need to breathe.

therein sits a bird, a

black spirit – your spirit.

spic your stale portmanteau

and wear your face to a laugh.

you are another black boy headed

for the mars.

Oluwapelumi Francis Salako

Oluwapelumi Francis Salako writes from Ogbomoso, western Nigeria. His poems have been featured in online publications and anthologies. He is the pioneer of #wakaabout, a street photography project dedicated to the daily struggle of the common people.