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Poems By Poet David Yobby  2/27/2015 7:07:00 AM
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Bringing Her Home

Play the isukuti, Bumala!
I am bringing her.
Here she comes
From the land of the mountain
That is surrounded by forests
That give birth to rivers
That criss and cross
In search of my beloved

Ha! You should see her, Ibanda!
You should see her hair..
Soot is not darker!
You should see her eyes..
The moon is neither whiter
Nor more beautiful!
Her behind, Babere..
It is an African behind!

She is not too fat
That I will struggle to feed her
She is not too thin
That I will be accused
Of being mean

Her skin is smooth, Ademba!
My beloved is smooth.
You should smell her, brother!
She scents like 'obuoba' does
When you are hungry
I am bringing her, brother,
I am bringing home my beloved.
David Yobby



Do Not Forget Our Promise

When I breathe in my last breath,
And my heart ceases to serve me,
When my soul rejoices its freedom,
From a body lying so cold,
When my body's wrapped in white,
And you adorn yourself in black,
Socius, do not forget our promise.

When the hearse comes round,
Its wailing siren drowning out your cries,
When my presence is felt no more,
By those who truly loved me,
When my potraits are removed from the wall,
And stuffed in the old family box,
Socius, do not forget our promise.

When the dirge is sang,
And tears come to your eyes,
Tears of joy, tears of sorrow,
A great waterfall, they flow,
When my final journey begins,
And you mourn my fall,
Socius, do not forget our promise.

When my coffin is gently lowered,
And cries fill the air,
When people tear their clothes in grief,
And want to jump in with me,
When the last heap of soil,
Affirms my departure,
And the pounding of feet above,
Waves my final goodbye,
Socius, dear Socius,
Do not forget our promise.
David Yobby



I Will Not Close My Eyes

I am afraid.
I cannot close my eyes 'cause
Darkness means danger.
I am afraid of the night,
It speaks terror.
Please leave the light on,
Or at least, a candle...

When I hear screaming,
I know it is time to move,
And never look back.
For the one time I stood and looked,
I saw my mother die,
Surrounded by men bisecting her belly,
As she screamed, not for help,
But begging me to leave her, to run away...
And for months, my tears would not stop,
Tears that I hoped would dilute my pain,
Never quenched my anger

I am not afraid of guns,
I am not afraid of machetes,
I have met them and lived to write this poem,
I am not afraid of hunger,
I have learned that it is a state of mind,
I am not afraid of death,
I just wonder when mine is,
I have braved the cold and the heat,
Fatigue and tension,
I fear nothing.

It is the dreams I am afraid of,
Dreams that shatter my self-made invincibility,
Dreams that cut to the core of my being,
Memories of horror,
Of my childhood eyes watching blood flow
From my grandfather's head,
Of husbands watching their women being raped,
Of family houses being razed,
Of children's hands cut off,
Oh, the horror!
Oh, the horror!

NO, I will not close my eyes!
I will not scream!
I will not dream!
I will not weep!

Oh, God, please take my sleep away...
And help me forgive
Those who slay without thought,
Help me forget
Those who lit the fire,
Help us learn
That bloodshed never makes life easier,
That death by the machete releases ghosts,
That forever haunt our dreams.
It has to stop.
David Yobby



If I Lost Her

If I lost her,
The world would stop,
The sun would dim,
The wind would be still,
And everything would blur...

I would be devastated beyond hope,
Irreparable destruction to
That part of me that recognizes love
And responds to it,
My dreams would be shattered
Into tiny fragments embedded
In memories of what was
And what was to be...

My biggest fear
Would have come home to roost,
And I would shed tears
Without shame, without reservations,
Because if I lost her,
I would have lost my world,
Lost this love sought for years,
And came tailor made for me
With a numerous pleasant surprises,
I would have lost happiness,
Our shared laughter and idioms,
I would have lost a partner,
A part of me apart from which I can't be,
My life, my soulmate, my love,
I would be dead inside,
A piece of wood floating in the ocean,

If I lost her,
David Yobby
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Poems By Poet David Yobby