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Articles by D. M. Aderibigbe
Heritage
On her outstretched palm Is a good place to start. Her father—your grandfather—kept It in a secret drawer for a day You would have a piece of him Your grandfather, in your mother’s words, Refused to let his daughter Feed her present with the future. And on the night that you were born, He drove all the way from Benin to Abuja. That night, silence became your mother. All your life, you’ve seen this woman Only through your father’s eye. Here, a story you longed for is telling Itself.
A Poem by D. M. Aderibigbe: 'Heritage'
A poem for Sunday The gold chain sitting On her outstretched palm Is a good place to start. Her father—your grandfather—kept It in a secret drawer for a day Like this—a day You would have a piece of him Around your neck. Your grandfather, in your mother’s words, Refused to let his daughter Feed her present with the future. And on the night that you were born, He drove all the way from Benin to Abuja. That night, silence became your mother.
How the End First Showed (Wisconsin Poetry Series)
“How the End First Showed is not merely a collection of Nigerian poems, it is an effort to forge transnational literature.” D. M. Aderibigbe is a Nigerian poet, studying in the United States. His poetry is Nigerian in so many ways. Poems are intensely moored in the Nigerian culture, the Nigerian family life, and the Nigerian colonial experiences.
Oedipus | The Nation
To end this brother, you climbed the moon to a far country, and never came back. By that I mean when the police broke their way into a room, billowing with suspicion, your body was a continent of maggots. By that I mean, when the telephone brewed with some voice, Mama’s hand went down, fallen skyscraper, and never came up again, be ni o. By that I mean, your death birthed another death. By that I mean, the neighbours pleaded with me to unpack my two bags of grief.
A Poem from China in Memory of Liu Xiaobo, by Liu Xia
Translator’s note: This photo of Liu Xiaobo swimming surfaced on the Internet after the sea burial in Dalian, China. Those of us who were heartbroken by his sudden death felt a little bit relieved after seeing the photo—Xiaobo was a good swimmer and he’s now gone home, to the sea, free. Liu Xia’s first narrative poem was about the sea, in which a fisherman threw his only keepsake into the sea to preserve his memories of love.
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