A Song to the North

By Olayioye Paul Bamidele

halima called my name on her gwaji;

a thin warp of rippleness. i, a pregnant sky,

watered down. how much music can heal.

her fingers, like tiny wands, stifled the storm

eating me at night. depression molded into

dappled water. friend, if you ever touch peace,

you will understand how desert you’ll be

without it; how you will be a harmattan tree,

aching to sing songs with leaves. & at this point,

you’d crawl into a cede. wind toppling ashes.

i tell you, muster your arms for peace. if it says

it wants to fly, train your limbs to gather wind.

& if you can’t, tuck yourself behind the tesbih.

here, halima played and the whole borno listened,

ears blistered with smokes. hold your peace tight

like anything; don’t squeeze its gold. i came

searching mine on this harp; perhaps I’d

pluck it as the sound rolls on.

 

Olayioye Paul Bamidele won the Paradise Gate House Poetry Prize 2025. His works have appeared or are forthcoming in Spillword, Lunaris, Daily Trust Newspaper, Artlounge, Afreecan, Ice Floe, Afreecan, Kalahari, LILAC, SprinNG, Readers Boon, Feral, Black Moon, Eboquills, Brittle Paper, Poetry Columnnnd, IHRAF, Synchronize Chaos Mag, Kissing Dynamite, Kalahari, UNN, Lolwe, Kreative Diadem and elsewhere.