AWỌN ẸMI ÈṢU MI

Demons, my demons!

Beautiful demons who like the morning sun,

Adorn me with the brightness of inspiration,

Hope, faith, and love;

And like the darkness of the night 

Plague me with despair, anguish,

Apathy, and melancholy. 

My demons whose songs bear the sweetness 

Of the Holy Cherubim and Seraphim choir,  

And the turbulence of the sound 

Of the voices of screeching 

Souls in the devil’s fire pit. 

Loving demons who clothe me in thick

Layers of skins of steel that 

Keep my heart dead and unfeeling. 

My demons are my best friends; 

Like human gut microbiota and human 

Innards in a mutualism,

My demons, peculiar to me, need my 

Head to survive and I need their light

To illuminate my head as I 

Knit words into beautiful silk collages. 

My demons are my best friends,

A communion which betrays my bond with

The Daughter of the South and shames 

The kinship of Taiwo and Kehinde.

We are inseparable as Ananse and his

Ominous labyrinth of webs, 

Like Moremi and the burning desire to

Liberate And like gold and the

Tombs of ancient Pharaohs. 

My demons are my best friends,

Our love is one which trumps and betrays

That of me and my Kehinde;

Through the conviction of my demons,

I sent my Kehinde straight into the curse of 

The death’s cold kiss so that

They and I could have each other for

As long as my lungs have air. 

Compassionate and slow to anger 

Like the Almighty,

My demons, though vicious they may seem,

Recess when I am attacked by external 

Witches to allow me strength to 

Emerge victorious from my battles with 

Outer forces. 

I am not quite afraid of what the Almighty or

The Lord of the damned can do to me; 

My demons can console and show me how to survive. 

But how can one be saved when the source of

Destruction is right from within? 

Before the wisdom of the 24 elders 

Combined can produce a way to untie 

The intricate knot adorned on my neck by my demons, 

The breath would have dried up in my lungs

And my young body would have been 

The soulless, empty void that was once

Inhabited with an antique spirit living

Through each day of his new existence,

Trying to resuscitate the lives of

The past, just to revel in their 

Fragrance and frolic in their sandy beaches. 

Lately I’ve been having visions,

Vivid images of the future flash before 

My mind and the images possess such

Beautiful and poised colours as if 

The story of my future was set in an

Ancient masterpiece painting;

Beautiful, artsy, grand, mysterious, and heavy

With value in parables and precious rocks.

But then my demons stride right into

My beautiful painting and smudge dark colors 

All over my canvas and dampen the brightness 

Of my divine colours with worrisome dots,

Strokes, and shapes;

One demon whispers to me that these

Visions are signs of the remission

Before the final blow which strikes

Me right out of the sky,

And plummets me right into the earth’s

Entrails and snaps the last chord holding

My sanity and spirit together.

I love my demons and I hate them;

They inspire me and dull my senses;

Discourage me and fuel my ambitions.

My demons push me and pull me back, make me

Laugh and cry, put me right at the 

Pinnacle of the earth and then implore

Me not to jump. 

Demons, my sweet demons! 

Sing to me with your beautiful, haunting 

Melodies and fill my veins and lungs 

With your sweet poison!

Demons whose beauty bear the radiance

Of the morning sun!

Yours is this body, blood, soul, and spirit

To do whatever you will.