Elegy Of Alto by Christopher Okigbo
I know many Igbo people, who consider Christopher Okigbo their Patron Saint
A man who took up arms and fought for what he believed; uphold the Igbo Nation.
I am one of them. I worship at the feet of this colossus whose life was cut short, that I might live and have honor. I consider it the greatest honor to post his work on my blog - Ngozichi Omekara
1967 beginning of the civil war in Nigeria, (Biafran-Nigerian war) a young man, Christopher Okigbo died on the battlefield. He left a slim collection of 72 pages of poetry; an exacting, burning, and truthful work from beginning to end. Prophetic and visionary, his words were first heard by his equals. An outstanding personality, Christopher Okigbo tells everyone not to be confined by their cultural, political, artistic, creative, and human limits. Today there are a large number of intellectuals who recognize in the prematurely deceased young Igbo, one of the founding figures in the development of modern literature in Africa.
(with drum accompaniment)
AND THE HORN may now paw the air howling goodbye…
For the Eagles are now in sight:
Shadows in the horizon-
THE ROBBERS are here in black sudden steps of showers, of
caterpillars-
THE EAGLES have come again,
The eagles rain down on us-
POLITICIANS are back in giant hidden steps of howitzers, of
detonators-
THE EAGLES descend on us,
Bayonets and cannons-
THE ROBBERS descend on us to strip us of our laughter, of our
thunder-
THE EAGLES have chosen their game,
Taken our concubines-
POLITICIANS are here in this iron dance of mortars, of
generators-
THE EAGLES are suddenly there,
New stars of iron dawn;
So let the horn paw the air howling goodbye…
O mother mother Earth, unbind me; let this be
my last testament; let this be
The ram's hidden wish to the sword the sword's
secret prayer to the scabbard-
THE ROBBERS are back in black hidden steps of detonators-
FOR BEYOND the blare of sirened afternoons, beyond
the motorcades;
Beyond the voices and days, the echoing highways; beyond
the latescence
Of our dissonant airs; through our curtained eyeballs,
through our shuttered sleep,
Onto our forgotten selves, onto our broken images;
beyond the barricades
Commandments and edicts, beyond the iron tables,
beyond the elephant's
Legendary patience, beyond his inviolable bronze
bust; beyond our crumbling towers-
BEYOND the iron path careering along the same beaten track-
THE GLIMPSE of a dream lies smouldering in a cave,
together with the mortally wounded birds.
Earth, unbind me; let me be the prodigal; let this be
the ram's ultimate prayer to the tether…
AN OLD STAR departs, leaves us here on the shore
Gazing heavenward for a new star approaching;
The new star appears, foreshadows its going
Before a going and coming that goes on forever…
A man who took up arms and fought for what he believed; uphold the Igbo Nation.
I am one of them. I worship at the feet of this colossus whose life was cut short, that I might live and have honor. I consider it the greatest honor to post his work on my blog - Ngozichi Omekara
1967 beginning of the civil war in Nigeria, (Biafran-Nigerian war) a young man, Christopher Okigbo died on the battlefield. He left a slim collection of 72 pages of poetry; an exacting, burning, and truthful work from beginning to end. Prophetic and visionary, his words were first heard by his equals. An outstanding personality, Christopher Okigbo tells everyone not to be confined by their cultural, political, artistic, creative, and human limits. Today there are a large number of intellectuals who recognize in the prematurely deceased young Igbo, one of the founding figures in the development of modern literature in Africa.
Elegy of Alto
(with drum accompaniment)
AND THE HORN may now paw the air howling goodbye…
For the Eagles are now in sight:
Shadows in the horizon-
THE ROBBERS are here in black sudden steps of showers, of
caterpillars-
THE EAGLES have come again,
The eagles rain down on us-
POLITICIANS are back in giant hidden steps of howitzers, of
detonators-
THE EAGLES descend on us,
Bayonets and cannons-
THE ROBBERS descend on us to strip us of our laughter, of our
thunder-
THE EAGLES have chosen their game,
Taken our concubines-
POLITICIANS are here in this iron dance of mortars, of
generators-
THE EAGLES are suddenly there,
New stars of iron dawn;
So let the horn paw the air howling goodbye…
O mother mother Earth, unbind me; let this be
my last testament; let this be
The ram's hidden wish to the sword the sword's
secret prayer to the scabbard-
THE ROBBERS are back in black hidden steps of detonators-
FOR BEYOND the blare of sirened afternoons, beyond
the motorcades;
Beyond the voices and days, the echoing highways; beyond
the latescence
Of our dissonant airs; through our curtained eyeballs,
through our shuttered sleep,
Onto our forgotten selves, onto our broken images;
beyond the barricades
Commandments and edicts, beyond the iron tables,
beyond the elephant's
Legendary patience, beyond his inviolable bronze
bust; beyond our crumbling towers-
BEYOND the iron path careering along the same beaten track-
THE GLIMPSE of a dream lies smouldering in a cave,
together with the mortally wounded birds.
Earth, unbind me; let me be the prodigal; let this be
the ram's ultimate prayer to the tether…
AN OLD STAR departs, leaves us here on the shore
Gazing heavenward for a new star approaching;
The new star appears, foreshadows its going
Before a going and coming that goes on forever…
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