Awéléwà (Part 5)


“The fire that left no ash
Theel snake crawled
But never did the rock know
What a wasted life this is.

The farmer died and
Left his hoe.
The hunter died,
His gun became a walking stick

The black blacksmith
Wearing black on a dark night
Died on the neck of his anvil
Oh, see the tears of a heavy iron

Twinkle Twinkle little star
How did you grow so old and dark
Falling off from somewhere high
Like something which has never shined

You are the light that never shone
The morning of sheer sadness
A curse to the land
You are the root of no tree”

Dark solemn dirge flowed
From the center of a saddened heart
Calmly, bitterly, it was
That the thick darkness swallowed the land

Adults also cry
The sigh of an elderly man
When he is crying or dying
Who knows the hot hell inside him

Oh, how dark the white cloth was
Speaking bitterness from its mind
How come the chiefs never knew
How teary the grave was

The hour has come upon her
The moment is now
That the land from where she came
She shall return in her prime

Sadly they entered
To take away the dead among the living
Dead they expected
The living was alive

Shock on the faces of the wall
Amidst the night, a sun shone
A joy, a tear, a mourn, a fear
The moment I smiled, like I never did

Read: Awéléwà died. Her burial was on that same night. All preparations were made. And, the men came inside to take her body away. But, she was there, sitting and staring, alone. The water from the river was being used on her while everybody was outside, mourning. They were shocked and ran out, not knowing what had happened.
What happened? How did the water got to her? Where was I?

To be continued…

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