Àwọn Àmì-ìwé Tí A Fẹ̀

One Herd, Two Worlds I am old now, near life’s quiet end, Yet memory still bends to days gone by— Where mother, aunts, and cousins walked as friends, Beneath the wide blue, endless, open sky. We ate our fill, we wandered free and light, No shadow hung above our peaceful days… Until the strangers came, with eyes so bright And cold, and guns that broke the golden haze. They shot my kin before I understood, My mother fell, her warm breath turned to still. But one said, “Keep the calf—he’s strong a