Hurt lodged deep in the soul held me back from writing
Gbanabom’s tribute
Mind maiming anguish stopped me from scribbling a poet’s
untimely eulogy
Grief-laden- heart felt a eulogy was a euphemism
for the final nail on Gbanabom’s coffin
I latched on to the hope that he might conjure
metaphors to return to this ephemeral shore of sores with his infectious laughter.
I thumbed through the pages of my country’s literature
Touching the pulse of each line of poetry ever written
for the texture, terrain and tenacity, Gbnabom brought to the art
Then I monitored the vital signs of my country’s orature
And marveled at how Gbanabom ploughed it to enrich our literature
I wish he could evade death and return to us
To exhume metaphors from the terracotta of the Kangari hills
And wash them in the Rokel river to write one more poem
for a nation pawned to inertia
I wish he could come back to read one more stanza with
his booming voice to a land deafened by greed
I wish he could return to teach one more class to his students and mentor just one more poet.
I wish he were here for just one more day to share one more drink with us and pour poetry of farewell to our native land like Tom Caurry
I wish he could return to give us one more laughter to fill our emptiness.
But he is gone to rendezvous with Cesar Vallejo and
Other Andean poets, he loved so much
Gone to meet Christopher Okigbo, David Diop, Rabearrivelo, and other poets left us too soon
Indeed, he is gone carrying the pain of the poems he would have written in his final hours
had asphyxia not incarcerated his voice and reduced his eloquence to grunts and groans like a poet trading words for sounds.
Someday when this heart of mine heals and these torrent of tears
stop the erosion of my soul. I shall write a tribute to a poet worthy
of being called a poet.
But for now, just let me cry for a nation’s loss.
Just let me appreciate the poetry in his final breath.
Just let me stare at the gaping abyss left in poetry’s heart
Just let me imagine a world of poetry without the Gbanabom
phenomenon.
Just let me be the mark of sorrow arrowing through my marrow.
Just let me cry for Gbanabom to heal the festering sores of a nation’s soul.
By Oumar Farouk Sesay
Copyright © 2022 Politico Online (12/10/22)
