ODEDE
And limps back with the sun strolling back to its chambers.
His traps are never empty,
So also is his storex of stories.
Tell us what you saw out there today! His children will beg,
With pleasure,
Odede will fill their lingering ears with tales of his adventures.
Fixing his gaze on the star-filled sky,
Odede in his usual tradition will end his long stories with;
"A man's disabilities should not be his weakness".
But not tonight,
The sun is set, and the fireflies are out,
Granma's pounded yam is cold, yet the soup is not set.
She has faith, "my Odede will return with his kill", she says.
But the ash too has grown cold,
And the children's waiting is like that of Beckett's 'Vladimir' (Didi) and 'Estragon' (Gogo)
Odede like 'Godot' never limps home with the strolling Sun.
The paths now are overgrown with broom grass, and
Granma sleeps that sleep our ancestors slept.
Perhaps, there, she did find Odede weeping.
Share This Poem
TweetThis Poems Story
This piece has a general atmosphere of loss and grieve. The personal mourns the loss of Odede who represents a generation, but mourns the disappearance of Odede more, not because of the stories of his adventure which he told the children, but because he only told them stories of his travails rather than teach them the path to building their own success story. ‘Odede’ represents the generation of our past heroes, who left stories of their legacies behind, but very few actually left footprints to guide generations to come through that “path”. ‘Granma’ represent the second generation I call witnesses. This generation worked closely with the generation of Odede, and should have been able to fix the problems emerging after the departure of Odede, but unfortunately, they were more willing to wait in hope that a miracle will bring back Odede. ‘The children’ represent our generation, who are more willing to feed on stories rather than ask for lessons and principles of success. We buy success stories at the expense of success principles. We have failed to travel Odede’s path, and now the paths are over taken by weed. The greatest fear is this; generations after us may not see success principles nor even the success stories to buy. This is a fact of concern for me as a Nigerian. When we look back to show them Odede’s path, there will be only a vast field of weed to behold. Then, that path will all have been lost to history (weed).
Public Collections Containing This Poem
Other Poems By This Author
ODEDE
PoetRichard Idemudia
Chased by His Shadows
PoetRichard Idemudia