Midsummer’s night in the Jungles of Africa
Sep 4, 2018 · 1 min read

We exchange starlight for the flickering flames of the oil lamp
The wind shapes into an echo of the repeating poundings of the mortar
The arena for a masquerade is lit up with the reverberations of distant hoots and howls
The mask for our darkened faces, the allure of love for our sweat drenched selves
The love in this place is raw, the kind that the Trojans never knew
Ancient sounds from the drums remind our waists of the times past
The movements of our feet remind the earth of a people once it’s occupants
On a midsummer Night, the African dance comes Alive
The bodies grace the energetic suggestions of the drum with finnesse
Romeo for Nwoke, Juliet for Nwanyi
Even Shakespeare sits as a mere spectator in this arena of African creation.
