The Phantoum

by Oladejo Abdullah Feranmi

1st Place, Poetry, Create | Encounter 2025

Like every traveller

with eyes that swallow and feet that flee.

How the truth,

with its infant fingers,

clasps our hands—

until its prints remain;

bones folded into smaller boxes.

How beautifully we open.

And how we don’t—

a tear inside the mouth

becomes a new tongue,

then another face,

then another.

The broader arms of lies

swoop us from the earth,

in case we forget

how falling felt—

the season arrives either way.

The naked trees

inherit the whistling of the whirlwind.

The naked trees

are all that's left.

Dust from those who once were

scattered over a place

that someday

will remember how to bloom.

All the flowers in your mouth

petaling across winter’s teary face,

each one certain

there will be enough wind

to carry it forward.

Artist Statement:

My work centers on the human cost of violence—how it shapes memory, identity, and the will to live. I write to honor the dignity of those often silenced or unseen, and to reflect on what it means to stay human in inhumane conditions. I hope readers engage with my work gently, allowing space for feeling, reflection, and care.