By Majekodunmi Oseriemen Ebhohon

You can be late
and still
be the latest.

Even the tortoise
was not at the naming,
but the child still dreams
in its shell.

You can miss the harvest,
yet plant what feeds
the famine.

You can be late
and still be the one
they waited for
when waiting
withered.

The moon never hurries,
but all rivers
bow to its pull.

So come,
even if your heart
protests,
still come.

The seed knows no clock,
yet it keeps its season.