Monday, January 16, 2012

He was my brother


His peeling skin 
and distended stomach
eyes glazed from 
several kegs of palm wine
he made bad medicine
and sold family land 
ignored several warnings

As I watch him on
the bier before the elders
I see the color of my life
with him
black, tinged with the red of pain,
a little green of filial service
slight traces of pink for love 
but not enough to make a rainbow.

3 comments:

  1. Love this Biola. The strong images evoking the complexities of family and the backdrop of Africa subtly weaved in. Nice.

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  2. Biola, you always amaze me with your ability to paint living pictures with words.

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