by Jonanan Kleu (19-20/1/3818/5)
At the bottom of the deepest well
Between the pages of your favourite book
The people tell
Of a precious nook
Beyond the world of Dust
Beyond the mortal crust
A world of calm
They call it Ngamdi-Ar’e’mam
To those uncouth
It’s called the Land of Youth
A place, it’s said
Men don’t die
Death fears to tread
In a place where dreams fly
Some ignore why
Angels fly
From the Land of Calm:
Ngamdi-Ar’e’mam
Demons too don’t go
Along with the human flow
Everyone wants to be there
But no one wants to stay
None will dare
The price to pay
So awful is it
(None will admit)
That Ngamdi-Ar’e’mam
Is just too calm
Nothing
to strive for
to reach to
to hope for
to go to
The people of that place
(The place without a human face)
They don’t understand
Why the human mind
Always needs a helping hand
They think
A body fed, watered and rested
Means a healthy mind – no kinks
That’s not so
We all know that, even Joe
Something major missing
Leads to doubt
That the perfect singing
Hides the mental drought
Despite their bliss
The travellers miss
What they left behind
More than what they came to find
When to Dust they come again
Their age is multiplied by ten
The world is bereft
Of what they left
All the years
On the traveller come at once
A flash of white
Onlookers gaze in fright
As the great voyager
Falls to the floor
Descends to rise no more
A final croak,
The traveller spoke
Pleas he gave
For those centuries in the grave
They can’t believe,
Those from Ngamdi-Ar’e’maam
(The Land of Calm)
That those who leave,
Do
Death, is judgement pronounced
On those who return
On those they denounce
A person’s life they make to burn
In vain they look
For one who takes no second look
No matter what the kind of prey
A person who comes will run away
Adberu, Ngum: Jonanan Kleu’s Complete Works (3845/5)
Sagamaya 