Scattered wings of a one night dance
remembers the heat of a dim hallway lamp.
Shattered wings in this lonely place
recalls the twist of the quaking skies.
“God sends rain as a sign of approval,”
the Olori had said.
We looked at the knotted sky
and smelled the rain drying in the hot air.
The Olori stared at her hands,
“Even though the thumb is unwell,
the hand still remains.
What else can be done but to await the change?”
The wooden floor seethes with winged ants
that tap to the change on one glorious night,
squirming through cracks, they carry each other
to rid their wings like regret releases its shame.
When the morning tiptoes away from the dark,
black bodies stream onto paths paved in
winged memories. The glisten is gone,
a commitment is freed in the dance of the first
(All rights reserved by Lesley Lababidi, 1999, Lagos) To copy or re-produce photography and/or writings, written permission from Lesley Lababidi is required.