Opeyemi is an amazing writer and I’m excited for you guys to read this piece that made me cry. It came in my email and I hastily read through it. Realized how absentminded I was and say down to read. This of course left me in tears and I rambled through Thank Yous and You are AMAZING replies to Ope.
Ope blogs here – firstname.lastname@example.org
The Hillside Chorus
Whispers dance around the mountainside, twilight yawning
With the tiredness of shepherd men trudging from grazing fields
Anticipating the warmth of stew and heavy boots off their swollen feet,
Soft hands melting away the hard knots of a long day-
Evening pleasures to look forward to.
The heart knows its own music, written in its own voice
For the illumination of darkened skies, skies rendered bleak
By lonesome despair, when hope became another song written
Of cacophonous rings, colours of day in riotous choruses
As the ear listened to its own doom-
The head listened to its own doom on the day it was written-
And for every sound, every waking cry, birdlike cries
That greet the morning like a faithful wife, her husband,
And the morning greets with the earth like a faithful husband
His wife, gentle wispy breezes dancing along the front lawn,
Happy children- so says the words of hope, on the day the
Head listened to its own doom, songs of the dead and the fallen.
But of what was the song written, that the heart had made?
Of what hue, what blend were the colours made that were sang?
Is it not for the birth of deep wonders, and the mysteries that
Each note carried? Is it not for the harmony that each heart shared
When of its own will, he gave his song?
And the song died in our hands, to live again, the
Celebration of the resurrection of buried futures,
Hopes of forgotten dreams, and promise of the awakening of the dead?
Such are the musings of the shepherd men trudging up
Wet grassed hills to eager wives and pleasant children,
Their loyal friends running from their heels to before them
And all the sheep are at peace.
The heart knows its own music, let not the head meddle,
Let not the eyes see another’s blindness but its own, and
With the heart’s music heal, restore, bring back again as
In the beginning before all was filled in chaos-
“Yet from chaos came the dawn,
Yes! From chaos came the dawn”
May the heart’s music sing for all eternity.