Growing up, Mu omi sùúrú was advice you’d hear from a Yoruba elder if you were nagging for something impatiently or seeking something in life that you can’t have yet.
.
As the oak tree rises to its peak
Tearing through coarse layers of soil
Paying steeply, to buy a hundred years from time
Weathering triumphal ground quakes as others sprout
Would you say
It’s failing?
You would say
It’s growing
But you wouldn’t say
The same of yourself
