Oh! Moon
When it is time
Dismiss the man
Etched on your face
Splitting firewood
He needs a break!
We have seen Astronauts
In their ships
Take off
And land on you
Poking around
With their scope
We can cope
Believe me
We have hope
That they will bring home
Moon-dust
For our perusal
As if we don’t have enough dust
Floating around
Now the others
Who say you are a god
Bothers me
They worship you still
In the African village
And in the Amazon forest
Perhaps you are the patron god
Of Astronauts
Guiding their vessels
In deep space
Holding the galaxies
For them
Just like in Star Trek
Making them drunk to
“Boldly go where no man has gone before!”
Oh! Moon
Are you really all that?
Or are you the one
The Yoruba children sing to
When they say:
“Moon our friend
When it is evening
Come and eat bean cakes
If you come
Then you are a thief
With sunken eyes!”