Poetry: JABDARII

HOW CAN I EXPLAIN THE JOY OF

our first meeting to one whose

feet have not touched the soft grass

of the dry savannah?

Laila your name on my lips

Bids the harshest of Harmattans 

on my cool skin goodbye

Like the magic of warm liquids

over the cough-strained voice

In a child's throat

Laila will you unwrap your hijab for me

like a rose unfurling its scarlet petals

to catch the rays of the morning sun

After a long lonely night?

I am a man of many travels

And a thousand flowers 

My eyes have beheld

But none like my Jabdarii

Your rebuff is like a knife to my gut

What seeks your heart in a man?

I may not be the Sultan but I have cows and fields

Nor an Alhaji but I'm pious

Laila, Laila

Your hennaed hands call to me

In my night visions

Laila is the tauraro arewa

that guides me back home