"Strums of Depression"

We grew up riding on Orpheus notes
Singing along the coast of Coromandel (where the early pumpkins grow)
Manning Hispaniola’s wheel as we rode the waves
Journeying to the Far-Away Tree
Conjuring with Hecate and her cohorts as fire burned and cauldron bubbled
And Narnia! Gosh, there was Narnia
But they have killed Orpheus
His lyre now played by the dyslexic stubby fingers of leprous hands
Rendering mournful strums of depression
While our mother muse mourns his martyrdom
They have killed Orpheus
His death a testimony to our collective neglect
For we ostracised Nancy Drew, banished the Hardy Boys
Tarred and feathered Brothers Grimm and ran Hans Anderson out of town
We let them kill Orpheus
First asphyxiated by the gun wielding Junta
Whose bland rhetoric was dwarfed by the flowery poetic language of the gods
For when they played their martial music
Orpheus it was who played music more beautiful and louder
Drowning out the Sirens’ bewitching songs
They have killed Orpheus
And at his passing, men and gods wept (and still weep)
For no longer do we charm the birds with our lovely songs
Lure the fish and wild beasts with our feathery oratory
Coax the trees and rocks to dance
No longer can our words divert the course of raging rivers
Our writings lead the destiny of nations, halt advancing armies
Conquer Hades
Lure the powerful hounds of hell to sleep
And give us the audacity of hope
That is why they killed Orpheus you know
For without his depth we are naked
Bound and gagged by the shackles of ignorance
Vulnerable captives of the philistine beast
Riding listlessly on these strums of depression


Jekwu Ozoemene