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The beating of the drum

takes me back home.
I think of an old woman’s death

or is it a child’s birth

perhaps a bride is to be wed.

I see people dancing on the street
extolling the death of a life well spent.
I hear a baby’s cry

Iyetunde is her name
Mama has come back again.

The beating of the drum

calling to me.

I hear laughter in the street

a young bride I see on her way

her groom by the Iroko tree awaits

to scare her in a delightful way.

The beating of the drum

from Ikenne forest calling my name

I hear.

                                                                                 Birgitta Abimbola Heikka.

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