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Arts and Crafts Poetry The Tourist Trail

In the House of Spirits

 I walked in the sacred groves, under the lure of a verdant dream
the earth breathed in the midday breeze,
trees towered like ancient shields.
They spoke of a different time

when paths were cut into dusty trails and journeys were made
to places beyond the realm of sight.
A time when Orishas ruled the earth
and  spirits roamed like demigods
giants peered from hooded rooms
voices echoed in hallowed tones.
Obatala the creator, garments of white like the purest wine.
Ogun the fearsome one, keeper of war, metals and ore.
Sango, clothed in thunder,  fury and fire.
the Orisha you dared not offend, leaving you a mass of stony bones …


But as my feet swept the ochre in the earth
I heard only her bells like a voice in my head.
Beautiful and strong- goddess of water and song,
giver of life, oshun
a figure in my fantasies of a loving earth.

I heard her lure in the loud chants of her devotees,
I felt her cradling in the soothing melodic mantras.
Oshun, take my heart to yours
sacred waters of a living earth.

All rights reserved Oluwatoyin Sutton@ Osupa 2016


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  • Reply
    April 30, 2016 at 12:02 pm

    Your words blossom to picturesque scenery, scent of wet soil and the whistle of breeze as it brushes past crispy colourful leaves… a poet’s craft in its bloom! Thanks for sharing, Ms Sutton. Love, Sarika

    • Reply
      April 30, 2016 at 5:29 pm

      Thanks Sarika. I’m so pleased you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing and sharing. I appreciate your comments x

  • Reply
    March 5, 2017 at 7:30 pm

    Trees towering like ancient shields speaking of a different time.

    Toyin this is a very intresting piece,
    If only we could hear their language how intresting their stories would be.

    • Reply
      March 5, 2017 at 7:35 pm

      Yes De`Kunle. It was a very interesting day. No one can visit Oshun grove and not be affected. We will not have enough paper to write the stories they would tell. Glad you enjoyed the piece.

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