Dear Tompolo, I have come Home, By Enewaridideke Ekanpou

By Enewaridideke Ekanpou

On this land alloted to me three years ago I laboured alone.

I have just dug and mined a treasure!

It is a gold, a gold now awaiting your touch of refinement.

I promised you the net must catch some fish.

On the river bank I did not come to scoop water with a basket.

Tompolo, please let loose your refining touch on the gold like a heavy downpour, keeping the gold drenched and glistened.

A gold is no gold without your anointed touch.

Tompolo, let the doctor depart to the waiting world with a bag of transformation tranches

Tompolo, let the waiting world see the doctor and smile.

I have done what you decreed me to do and now I am home.

I am now home because every traveller goes home after a journey.

I am now home because to home every bird flies to roost after a journey.

Flags dance when the wind sings soothing songs;

Trees bow when the wind twangs her guitar;

The mother-hen searches for shelter with her children when the wind blesses the earth;

Mortals mouth doctor when the doctor heaves into sight like ship;

To every dance there are

steps uniquely choreographed.

A doctor has his own rituals, so are the rituals of the mystic who has a foundry hammering out mortals as its relics.

The man decorated doctor without being doctored must be the nunc dimittis for the doctor to leave your sight and transform the waiting world.

The doctor’s nunc dimittis must be a transformation tranch, not the silence-inducement nunc dimittis of Simeon in the book of Luke.

The randy beetle is the gold of both the dead and the living raffia palm trees in the forest.

Touch the doctor, turn the doctor into the randy beetle in the forest.

The world knows happiness, smiling seamlessly when the randy beetle journeys around the forest.

Raffia palm trees worry no more when the randy beetle cuddles them.

Dear Tompolo, I am back from the bloodless brain battle for branches to bud;

From this bloodless brain battle may branches bud and bind the world like the mustard seed.

All through the creeks I shall gong this bloodless brain battle until all the iguanas are awakened from their legendary deafness.

Dear Tompolo, I am now home with a dug gold as the relic of the journey you decreed me to take on.

Decorated, should I still be home to Akparemogbene as my home?

Or should I be home to your home in your home in the mangrove forest?

Dr. Ekanpou writes from Akparemogbene, Delta State