Nsuhoridem
Okon
Idara
Tell Idara*
Tell her I have searched for her
Up and down, far and wide
I don’t remember when
I first started
I heard she was at home
I went there to look
Nearest the hearth I found
faces familiar
Strangers to her name
I heard she was out
Playing with friends
I went there and found
The knife stabs deepest
When the hand is well known
Idara
Where have I not searched?
The women come from the river singing
I listen
It is a dirge
The young men leap the war dance
I hear them shout
It is in rage
My steps falter towards the traders
It is plain to see
From their eyes, lips and strange looks
They know not my language
Idara, I have searched long…
And then, ah then I heard
She was seen
In that place
We only speak of in whispers
I gathered courage
For this search must end
I drew the curtain
And peeped
And found…
To my own eyes, emptiness
Idara
When you see her
If you see her
Tell her –
The fruit dies when it leaves the pod
Its sweetness lost, tasteless
Tell her –
A mother’s warmth is best in childhood
The grown man knows not its sweetness
Tell her –
The basket holds its own when closed
Only when open is the house fed
Tell her not to leave us
Nor with her absence grieve us
Tell her our eyes watch the road
And our hearts bear the load
Of unshed tears
And scarce-hid fears
Tell her
Tell Idara
That this search must end
*”Idara” is the Ibibio word for “joy/happiness
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