You held the sun
By the throat,
Made love to darkness.
She screamed your name
—But your name, Sopona,
Is not to be spoken—
We fell to the
Wrath of earth.
The air we breathe
Stalks us
Water can’t cleanse this curse.
you are death,
You are antidote.
The sun is your wife,
The moon, your concubine.
The world is hungry for light.
The streets
Are dying for your healing sweep.
___________
Jide Badmus is an electrical engineer, a poet inspired by beauty and destruction; he believes that things in ruins were once beautiful. Badmus explores themes around sensuality and healing. He writes from Lagos, Nigeria. You can reach him on twitter @bardmus, IG @instajhide
Photo Credit: Photo by Dazzle Jam from Pexels
Sub-Saharan Magazine 
There’s this touch of genus that accompanies Jide Badmus’ poems. It makes me unable to hold my accolades; so I always give it to him. The same applies to this particular poem, Obàluàye. I must say this is a touchstone to genuine poetry – like a palmwine not mixed.
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