Nature Poem

HERITAGE

It is still there
Built at the edge,
Without a thatched roof,
Door and window of my time
Only the aged piled-up stones


In comes the crack of dawn
Always before the arrival
As the cockcrow awakes the sleep
I saw my grandpa
Seat on his aged-wooden stool
With longing, calls on the gods


Sunset with the callers
His eyes dim with ages and alertness,
Strangles the wild crowing cock
Alas, blood fall in drops, squirt on are
The bleeding gum of a pregnant goat
And, that of the scorpions tail


Sitting near grandma window
I peek; I saw black faces,
People from the big city,
Rich powerful men of authority
Vision of wealth and nakedness
A fact beyond my doubt


Spry, spread on is the concoction
With repellent smells of wizards
Those plants, strange wild plants;
That restored a dying old man,
Wipe up the tears from a childless
All in a scenery of vapor
Created by EZE, EDITH UCHENNA
Heritage by EZE, EDITH UCHENNA @FamilyFriendPoems

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