Your mysteries are forever locked within you, Enveloped in your green cocoon, I can’t help but wonder the hands that dug you, How carefully they worked, crafted and steered you. Were they slaves or free born? Did they use their bare hands, metal or wooden tools? Did they sing or silently trudge through…
Daring heights wall shadowed valleys, Verdant forests caps granitic mounds, Rusted roofs of brown coats line ancient alleys, Mud walls, wooden stalls, ancient palaces, and inscriptions on rocks, by human hands and magic spells, they were fashioned. Massive caves with limpid springs that heal, Awesome wildlife, untouched, abundant, kept safe up on the hills….
The poem below is about a cave called Iho-Eleeru also known as Cave of Ashes), tucked away in the thick forests of Isarun village, Ondo State, South-western Nigeria. Of great significance is this cave in the history of the Yoruba people as well as West Africa because the skeletons of prehistoric man dating as far…