When am the Iroko tree.
I stand tall and firm like the tree
Birds of the air, on my branch they perch
With authority, none dare not dispatch
My trunk, an ailment it can cure
With valour, my trunk they seek to secure.
Surrounded by water and life it lend
Divine power from the gods to savage
Amidst my kind, am a dread sage
Like water, my wisdom they thirst to drink
They suck relentlessly till they are drunk.
Like an Iroko, stability I represent amidst my kindreds
Leaves forming to shelter them in their hundreds
The fallen of an Iroko tremendously startles the forest
With my demise, sets in a sweet bitter frost
A philanthropist unborn to the world
I will be if only am an Iroko tree. . .
Precious Chioma (Sacred Tess)