Poem: “The Fisherman’s Invocation” by Gabriel Okara

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The Fisherman's Invocation

The celebration is now ended 
but the echoes are all around 
whirling like a harmattan 
whirl-wind throwing dust around 
and hands cover faces and feet grope.

The celebration is now ended 
the drums lay quiet, silent, waiting. 
And the dancers disperse, walking 
with feet that have known many dances 
waiting for the next; walking 
with their hearts climbing up their feet 
to their places and the palmwine descending 
from their heads to settle in their bellies 
and their bodies turn cold. For the spirit
of the dance has left and their faces become naked.

But the child-Front is now lying on laps 
feeding from measureless breasts of the Back 
singing green lullabys which tingle our heads. 
And we learn to sing half familiar half strange songs 
We learn to dance to half familiar half strange 
rhythms fashioned in dreams as the child-Front 
lies sleeping with breasts in his mouth.

— Gabriel Okara

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