Tuesday, May 30, 2017

SIMPLE (MANGO)

In Lagos I felt this world for the very first time
Under a wide-eyed Ikoyi sun, my heart, mind and soul came to life
The mangoes were always in season
I was a boy, and nothing more. 

My mind was open… 
The gate was never locked
So my dreams wandered free
Some days, they walked with me
On others, they dashed off in every direction, hoping to tempt me into new games of discovery 
Nothing was real
Yet it all was

I wasn’t yet good at pretending to be myself
I was a boy; nothing more.

I drifted through life as would a paintbrush
Aimless, simple.
On the days the rains fell,
The drops crash-landing like millions of miniscule musical meteorites
I picked them up, held them in my bristles
And carried them with me
Even now, they color the movements I make

Blooms of hibiscus shone around our home
Like little red stars that had lost their way and settled amongst the greenery

My house, in those days, was a city
The walls hummed with energy
It was my palace
I ruled it with a playful hand
My fingers spoke a language they never had to learn
The surfaces of this city of mine lived to make conversation with them
They had a heavy vibration
Curiosity oozed from my very pores 
This world needed explaining and mine was the intrepid mind to do this

When I explored my city, lizards hurdled gravel like mountains
Scaled walls
Watched my antics
Told stories of them
Wanted to join in the fun.
All of this happened. 
I lived it in my very bones.
I was a boy, and nothing more.

Ignorant of my own smallness, I knew things then that I would never know again
Like how to travel to other worlds, borne by the songs of my grandmother
And how to live life to the beat of the simple things within it
These hands and feet of mine were still learning to fly
The day would come when they would be taught to do so
Until that time, they were content to look to the sky
There was poetry in every motion and joint of my body
I was a boy and nothing more

Dobra was the first girl I ever tried to impress
Her thick, inky plaits resembled shiny rope
They glistened.
We were the same size.
She had a certain bigness about her.

I didn’t yet know of the thing called art.
It fueled me all the same.
It flowed through me like a breeze through leaves.
Like a breeze through hair.
A breath of energy reminding me to move, to breathe.
It was my air.
It is my air.

My muscles didn’t mind

The mango tree in front of our house was magic
I was never to climb it
The jewels it dropped tasted of laughter
When I drank up their juice, the sunlight sang through my bones
This too happened.
More times than I could ever count.
But fewer times than I’d like to think.

My dad was the biggest man I ever knew
I could never scare him
Alexis lived outside. 
She and I, we liked the same food.
Hers was the first friendship I ever knew
Her scent was that of unclaimed mornings
Even now it still clings to me

My city is an enormous vessel
A great pyramid that is the home of my childhood
Memories were laid to rest in that tomb
They took with them things from these plains, reminders of what was.
Ties to what they had left behind
Alexis also.
Memories.
So hard, yet with soft edges.
A full moon, on a cloudy night.
Simple.


© Axel Cooper, 2017

Mango
Photo by Asit K. Ghosh
from Wikimedia Commons

3 comments:

jean said...

I am completely blown away by this poem! <3

Tony Russell said...

I had the same reaction when Axel delivered this poem at one of our Live Poets sessions, Jean. He never read from a page; alway spoke from memory. He is also a very gifted artist. Check out his Facebook page for some of his drawings!

Diane Harner said...

I loved this poem! It flowed like honey from page to eyes to images....now I want a mango!