I am child of the river, child of the rockChild, of rocky hills holding handsAbove the tallest roofs.Dawns are grey, dusks brown;Whoever craves the blue legend of Ikere skies,Let him turn his neck like a barber’s chairFor here, the rock is earth, the rock is sky***I am child of the rockToo high for the legs of the eye;For the elephant is feast for any sight (Midlife 11)Mountains of My BeginningI am flattered by a lofty feeling that the organisers of this gathering must have had me at the bac...