Salutation: A Poetic Tribute to Ancestral Voices

I come gently, like the evening rain. I come in silence, like the dew of a virgin morning. I come suddenly, like thunder and the rain at noon. Rites of first tuber and leaves to you, O forbears of redolent words. Salute to you who ponder our ways to sunlight, and who hold pestles of songs to the mouths of mortal wrongs. I salute the song and the singer. Give my voice the sonorous strains of bitter kola, and let my eyes curve into the past like a sickle in the harvest of gladsome songs. I come tenderly, like the full moon among gasping stars.

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