fly, be youthful,
enjoy the grace of independence that
has
scratched itself into your skin,
fly
but don’t forget the measure of your
wing’s strength,
the ground is full of pebbles
and stones.
Boy, fly,
measure well,
the length of drought
that will come draw water
out of your river,
don’t break a wall, don’t break
the dam.
Boy, fly.
I penned these words from the heart, drawing from my own journey. The lines first came to me one morning in 2022 as I walked to the farm—a time of reflection amid hard work. In 2021, I worked on a farm in Ogun, enduring the grueling rhythm of 24/7 labour for a pay of just 35k. By early 2022, I moved back to Ilorin, full of hope for a teaching job the Kwara State government was recruiting for. Crossing the cutoff mark felt like a triumph, yet the appointment never came. Undeterred, I decided to return to my village and start anew with farming. Odd, perhaps, but it is my path. These lines—part prayer, part counsel—are reminders to myself and to others: to fly, but wisely.
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