Editor's ChoiceMusingsPoetry

Anyanwụ

He calls me anyanwụ, not because I am the sun
Nor is it because I was born on a Sunday
But because I am like the gong that split the ear on ahịa Eke day
Because I am like the ụdara tree that produces fruit at all season

He calls me anyanwụ, not because I am the masquerade goddess
Nor because I am the chi that breastfeeds the hungry orphans
But because I am like the ogogoro tree that never runs out of spirit
Because I am the mouth that speaks for the oppressed

He calls me anyanwụ, not because my skin glitters like mmanụ nkoo
Nor because it’s adorned with the beautiful uli patterns
But because I am like the spirit that comforts the widowed and the childless ndị nne
Because I am like the fountain that reaches out to the thirsty children

I’m anyanwụ, the only ikoro that beats in the forest
I’m the unmistakable voice of agbala, the harbinger of fortune
The product of Chukwu okike, the Ifejiọkụ of bountiful harvests
I’m the only ocean that flows in the desert

I am the voice that defends the voiceless
I speak for the oppressed when all hope is lost
I am the tree that feeds and shelters the homeless
I am anyanwụ, the mighty drum of Chukwu okike

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