I was there when Oludumare
Sent Obatala on a journey to this planet
I heard those echoes of words spoken
And moved with the words of creation
Obatala, dressed in supreme white
Moulded and Oludumare blessed with breath
My ancestors lived, but I existed
I was a sparkle in the sword of Ogun
The god of all metals
All metals obeyed him with annealing fear
And my ancestor worshipped in despair
I was fire in the mouth of Sango,
The god of thunder strike
At the Alaafin, I watched as eyes spark and flicker
And Sango in an unfair mountain fury
Smote his antagonist
I watched as god turned to mortal,
Oba Koso.
I was the distinct beauty of Oya
god of rebirth; who in annoyance
Turned the clayey land to a river Niger
And Osun; heart-broken dissolved to rivers of waters
To heal, to revive and give woman, children
Yemoga in blazing boastfulness
Proved to be mother of waters
Nurtured the best of waters for babies and female
I was the poetry in Orunmila incantations
The grand custodian of the Ifa oracle:
Bringer of good wisdom, solution for the time
Interpreter of dreams, poetry of the gods
I was there, with them, in their toils
They worked and worked for our fathers
Yet they died that their sons will be gods
Their works in archives, depleting on earth
Their works like them and them like their works
Have had values, only for their time…
And now in my own time
When my father’s works existed
And I lived;
I lived in a time when
The Orunmila’s beads was changed with catholic rosary
A time, when Osun was unfashionable
And baptism became the vogue
A time in a time;
When the gnawing fire of Oba Koso
Was replaced with the consuming fire of Holy Ghost
A time;
When the mighty words of incantation is dying
And replaced with reviving-speaking-tongues
A time in a time;
That the truth of the old
Became a fairy tale for today
A time that I live
And live for the true words of creation
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