Black Dream

Only if I could be laid to repose
on a finely carved
African wooden bed,
I would not have to
worry about any
cuboid clad bag
that has in its belly,
an expectation of foreign dream.

I would lay my back
on the wooden bed of the black gods,
deep into the
black extol
and revolt,
the world would be aware
of the thick skin I possess,
the rebellious African skin.

Only if I could be laid naked,
not in any good night cloth
that I can’t afford,
But one of those African timbers.

Only if I could be laid to repose
on a finely carved
African wooden bed,
I would not have to worry
about any enslaving odor
of a foreign coffin,
that might want to
make me have a foreign deam.

Wahab Olamilekan

Nigerian

I'm a budding poet, fabric designer and mobile photographer. I believe in African teachings of good character and respect. I love listening to folk songs of Michael Kiwanuka and Beautiful Nubia. I find great pleasure in reading blues poems of Langston Hughes.