The old man says a child
 that loses his home only hangs
his sack of misery around his neck.

This country turns me on my legs
like bats and has bleached me
clean of all the midnight dreams.

The spring flowers here have lost
their early morning grace.
 I think of redemption in a foreign
river, to immerse my body in this water
and tell my mother to witness my baptism.

The old man says wherever a snail inches
 it carries its home along and sometimes
that is the only song you need to know.

– Salawu Olajide