Under a tall grass thatched hut

By Atok Dan

 All were under a tall grass thatched hut

Lying desperately eying the future under a hut,

None had flicked my mind as a remedy to such a desperation

I plucked off the grass on the roof of a huge ugly structure

I had gone to the bush and behave not like a bushman

It happened to be a tall grass thatched hut,

Where I thought to might have been born,

Though none had it as a confirmation

Not even a mere slip of paper with a record

But I still went to a bush

While raged under a tall grass thatched hut,

A journey had flicked into my brain,

But still had no compass itinerary

It only stood a plain thought of the troubled mind,

I took courage to the bush

Weird hallucinations of childhood

Which instructed me to begin now

I had started as told by madness

Only courage drove dead cells of my reasoning box

My little witty brain at times overwhelmed,

As silhouetted by my shadow

All were under a tall grass thatched hut

I still stayed in the bush  

The hut was what I referred to when faced by unfriendly nature

For there was nothing I had ever known better than it

A testimony to why it could be where I came to live

And a debut on that fateful journey to bush

All wild and tame wishes formed part of a village talks

But never heeded such scaring remarks

I had fitted my brain with sensible rebellion

And went on as the brain had instructed,

A rebel boy engulfed in a bigger rebellion

But the tall grass thatched hut remained referential

And Bush is still my new home

Thoughts of having gone missing came into my brain,

For they had given me strange names,

Yet I could still control my senses of being me,

I knew I had never been out of culture

It was me culturally brainwashed

The tall grass-thatched hut was still visible

I had never lost as perceived,

It was only my mental alters at work

All was a journey under a tall hut