Ancestral Call
Hark! The winds of Ọyọ chant in twilight’s breath,
A thousand drums throb ’neath igi gedu shade.
Moonlight carves tales where truth wrestles with death,
Wisdom whispers through leaves that never fade.
“Ẹni tó rẹrin kì í ṣe ọrẹ,”
Murmurs the seer whose sight pierces the veil.
“Beware the hand that greets with bright array
Smiles hide knives forged in betrayal’s tale.”
The Masquerade’s Dance
Behold the face sweet as Ọ̀ṣun’s stream,
Where dimples bloom like flowers at dawn’s rise.
But rivers glitter too when shadows gleam
Not all that sparkles comes from truthful skies.
He came like harvest rain soft, soothing, mild,
His voice sang promises dressed in silk threads.
But famine’s hand lurks where the soil seems wild,
And love dies first where treachery treads.
Shakespearean Curse
Thou painted rogue! Smile-monger wrapped in guile,
Thy laughter rings false as a jester’s deceit.
Thou Judas-kissed devil cloaked in sweet wiles
A viper housed in grace, hissing defeat.
Thy tongue drips nectar brewed in lies’ black well,
Yet honor shrinks where thy laughter doth swell.
What price for peace when trust is sold as war?
A poisoned cup hid ‘neath a lover’s star.
Yoruba Wisdom’s Echo
“Ẹjẹ kí a rò,” elders often decree,
“Ọrẹ tó rẹrin lè yọ ọ̀bá lọ mọ́ràn.”
(Let us be wary; a smiling friend may dethrone the king)
For shadows walk where false faces run free,
And kin betray with kisses dipped in scorn.
A palm frond may wave in the wind’s embrace,
Yet still be sharp enough to draw your blood.
Even the river, calm with tranquil face,
Hides depths where men drown in a single flood.
Ancestral Reckoning
Trust not faces framed in fair delight,
Nor pledge your soul to masks born of sweet lies.
The hawk, though still, waits in death’s patient light
Its claws concealed ‘neath calm, unyielding skies.
Ọmọ Yorùbá, hear this fate-woven song:
Beware the smile that blinds before it stings.
Life’s truth is harsh yet it endures long,
For wisdom flies on broken eagles’ wings.
“Ẹni tó rẹrin kì í ṣe ọrẹ,”
So speaks the Earth, so cries the ancient drum.
Trust only hearts that bleed when skies turn gray
Not all who smile will stand when trials come.
By: Jide Adesina
Extract from Jide’s poem “Tale of destiny”
