Sir Goddy was a good man. His family and students do profess. Even the farmlands in Jos do confess. But what really am I on about ? Please Read On. It has been Eleven Years but this poem still elicits memories of your obsequies in Onitsha, Nigeria. My first time spending more than a few hours in the town. Save when in transit to Owerri or Asaba. My impressions are suffused in this Elegy. “Dingy and Noisy” . An Ancient City overlooking the Mighty Niger River. The streets and church were agog with mourners amany. It was a festival of colors and sounds. A gathering of joy and pain. Demonstrated upon red earth and beneath blue skies.
Thanks to Davinci Code, my Right Hand man, who graciously accompanied me into the “Heart of Darkness”. Youth is a Beautiful thing, it bathes the Brain in a rooted sense of immortality. When we were younger we believed we would live for ever and could do anything. How Cute and Quaint.
Today I celebrate Time and the Memories secure in its belly. May we all live long and prosper.
The Poem :
SIR GODDY GOES FORTH
And so it begins.
The choir’s melliferous chorus blares.
Congregants stand up
from stolid hand carved chairs of oak
aptly called pews.
Exhibiting dark hues
of nightly black and dappled grey
In the teary ides of May
Before proceeding to purr and mew
A goodly hymn
in strangulated yet functional unison.
Alas! One by one they walked in,
the Popish knaves
in the gloomy garish levery
of societal buffoonery.
Caricatures of the Knights of yore.
With the vicars of Christ in close tow.
This is it, my learned brother goes forth
in a Roman Catholic Synagogue
in this dingy, noisy yet comely town.
This microcosmos of harsh,
short, brutish human existence.
The priests speak and read flowery words
from the good book to make us all feel at ease
in the assumed solemnity of it all.
The censer’s purifying dipuration
dispatches angels and demons alike
from the altar back to hades and paradise.
Buttons click and lights flash
making a digital record of events
for a later viewing at a later date.
To be born. To live. To die.
This is the cycle of life.
Rest in peace Sir Godwin.
Gentle learned Papal Knight.
Alex Wodi, May 2010 (For Juliet’s Daddy)
Sir Godwin Abadom
DrAlexanderGrey 