Tonight, the moon has refused to wane
Milky, she stays watching…
The figure nightly clothed, flanked with duty
The pestle woman and the defeated yam
In the rugged mortal to feed the waiting man
Fear stands in her sweats behind the bread.
Her voiced dirge spells nudity
The nudity of her life and the manly jam
The ashes that flicker at her wailing woman
Glow mourns at her state of dread.
The cheeks radiate in a bloody black and blue
Her tears caught up in watery phlegm
And the lips tremble in a firing cold
Her aching back comforts crying Olurombi.
In her blackness she seeks a clue
With tied desires and fisted fearless flame
She sails her hell dark and bold
For her son to heal and be…
And tonight she is not sleeping.
The manly prowess and a lullaby to sing
Her heart is a pouch of grief and pain
She is lone and lost as sleep descends her lull.
The man is sleeping and she is weeping
Silenced wails swell her hearty cling
The previous she slept in the cold and rain
And for a home, heeds the battery and fall.
Today, the sun has refused the set lane
Shining stunned and watching…
In lashing and firing rays
And in the agony of furrowed lines…
Yet, in beautiful arrays
The African woman smiles…
I am a member of the WRR editorial team.