-Tukur Ridwan

Our bodies are scales on which the weight of our
skulls finds balance. 

As the sun penetrates my follicles, my head crystals the reflection

Of invisible entities. Each head is overflown with the weight 

Of burdens camouflaged in thoughts, and in musings. 

You do not need to break open this cranium

To know how water seeps into the coconut.

This mystery makes the head the giver and taker of all.

Bearing joy and gloom, I’m Olódùmarè’s mystery tarot

Whose silence grows— you could hear the sermons 

In layers of breath. My heavy tongue breaks the chains 

Of barriers, for my teeth to chew.

Orí la ò bá bọ, a ò bá f’òrìṣà sílẹ̀,

So, I appease my orí with words and water, like the dew

does the Earth and its progeny of trees and stones.

May my voice animate goosebumps when I speak, 

And I shall touch gold (Àṣẹ!). Orí, you are the treasure 

We seek with our prayers, offerings, and affirmations of light. 

You wield the power to find fulfilment and rest for our bodies.

We milk your endowment like a cow’s breasts—

You’re a mother’s bestowment on her offspring.

We bathe you before the moon, before the sun, before the river

And the soil, to wash away your burdens for the earth

To bear with its vast shoulders, so you may lead our feet to triumph.

II

I find home in sleep’s embrace, because orí adé kìí sùn’ta—

I escape the nightly chaos under angels’ wings.

The wars in my dreams wake my tongue into triumph 

Before my eyes see the ruins of dark armies.

Even though I understand the dialect of legs, I do not run.

I must dance to the rhythm of drummers who entertain kings.

This palace of posterity longs for the reign of a boy 

Who harbours light in his retina. I found the crown in my shrine 

Of musings, since I speak glory into my hands and rub my shaved head—

Orí l’ẹjá fií n la’bú.

I take a mindful walk with my feet’s thoughts

Because my whole body seeks its guidance.

This is how I shed this weight in my head—

Too heavy for my small room to contain.

I shall not walk into affliction while time drifts away

I shall carve a shelter with every step like a sandcastle

May the soil welcome my arrival with the dance of the seas(Àṣẹ!)

I cultivate the roots to harvest the dividends of my plantation 

I defy these tired muscles with grit to bend the trees.

I must pass, soar, and permeate the space with my warmth like the wind.

Tukur Ridwan (He/Him) is a Nigerian poet who explores existentialism through dualism, solitude/silence, memories, lust, and loss. Shortlisted in the Bridgitte James Poetry Competition (2025) and the Eriata Oribhabor Poetry Prize (2020), his works also appear or are forthcoming in Kelp Journal, Suburban Witchcraft Magazine, Pensive Journal, The African Writers Magazine, Kalahari Review, Cordite Poetry Review, and elsewhere. He won the Brigitte Poirson Monthly Poetry Contest (March 2018), authored A Boy’s Tears on Earth’s Tongue (Authorpedia, 2019), and The Forgiveness Series (Ghost City Press, 2022). He tweets @Oreal2kur.