Poetry

A child – the bride

A child – the bride

Across vast seas they rowed
To lands afar; Unknown
Through thick and thorn they plowed
To find the crown some gold

The men were all alike
With faces long and white
With dainty dates they wined
To countries, names assigned

Alas! The gold is found
In timber and nuts abound
The pods and palms went round
To pay and fund the crown

Yet they sought a gem
To adorn the crown’s diadem
In vain they toiled till dark
The gem was wrapped in black

A match was made in haste
To please and con the men
A match of white and white
To yield and birth a black

In bouts of ecstatic wars
And orgasms of nails and claws
A conception of different tribes
Birthed with tribal marks

Her due time came nigh
Her cries pierced the night
Her waters broke asunder
To form the Benue and Niger

And so came the child
In different shades of black
Tearing the lands apart
Bearing marks of the plan

And so the gem was found
In hues dark and black
It flowed to fund the crown
And fueled to burn the child

Now, the child has fathered a man
All grown, again, in haste
With scars of burn and hate
And again, it’s time to trade

A match is yet afoot
A bride and fifty grooms
To aid the crown to loot
Or aid the child to bloom?

© Ikenna Aniagboso 2018

Pho

 

 

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