Nightingale, Ęyę àwòko

Nightingale,
a night singer that shines in its might,
the string between renewal and rebirth,
highlighted as a dignified vulnerable creature,
“igbó kò ń pa ohùn mọ́ àwòko lẹ́nu”,
the forest or bush cannot shut up the voice of the nightingale,
as little as it lives belittled,
on a fortnight it flew to me,
it’s flight towards me…..so magnetized,
i still wonder if it was aware of my painful unease,
or was it the gaze of my distant eyes that gave it away?,
how could it manage to soothe amidst such extraneous noise?,
“that humming of yours cradled me to sleep”,
making me deaf to the voices in my head,
even if it was just for a night…a night it was,
“the melody of your unheard voice spoke to me”,
for once…at once…that once,
a familiar kind of warmth spread across my chest,
I was cradled to sleep by a nightingale,
who would have thought it could be so “special”,
as little as it lives belittled
the bird of nightingale…..Ęyę àwòko,
cradled me to love even if it was just for a night,
the chains of insomnia shrugged itself off a fight,
So this is what love feels like?
igbó kò ń pa ohùn mọ́ àwòko lẹ́nu ― The forest or bush cannot shut up the voice of the nightingale,
the bird of nightingale….Ęyę àwòko,