Right from childhood, I have searched for the light
because I was told that in light could salvation be found.
In one light house, there was no love. I later found love in darkness.
In one light house, the members were poor,
provincial and mean. I soon saw wealth,
prosperity and politeness in darkness.
In another light house, the members talked too
much and this shocked my reserved self out of
the fold. Dark people know how to keep their sacred counsel.
In another light house, the members were
post-postmodern in their approach to the
veneration of the ancient Deity. The people of
darkness thrive on tradition and in the
unchanging message of their Creed.
In yet another light house, the gospel was not full;
half salvation, half prosperity and full of
sacrificial gifts and tithes. Darkened people pay
the tithes of action and reciprocity.
In one light house, the nomenclature was deep
but the message was hypocritically deeper.
Darkness is deeper than them.
In the end, I saw light in darkness.
In the respect for the elderly and the ancestors,
I saw light in darkness.
In the worship of the Earth and its fullness,
I saw light in darkness.
In the libation poured to the benign gods and goddesses,
I saw light in darkness.
In the festivals of yam and rain,
I saw light in darkness.
In the poetic justice for the wronged and oppressed,
I saw light in darkness.
In the discovery of our origins on the earth,
I saw light in darkness.
In the complexion that reflects the sun,
I saw light in darkness.
In the culture that is rich and full,
I saw light in darkness.
In the promises of the afterlife,
I saw light in darkness.
In the peace that comes with contentment,
I saw light in darkness.
In the laughter that is sincere and free,
I saw light in darkness.
In the communality that defines a race,
I saw light in darkness.
And in the end that marks a new beginning,
I saw light in darkness.