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The Raven Road

It's time for harvest, Harvest for the farmished farmer. Trees of pain; lumbers of frustration. Has our agbádá failed our wrappers? Will palmwine tinder the curvaceous skin? Èébì is our clothed shoe - a royal head. Aláàfin's wits; such cruelty I ponder on. Have I not seen the raven Palace yet? Dírébà! Take these stupor bodies for money. Lend them no mercy for long! The vultures are our brothers on the stake. Our embers shall weigh not their presence. Such dreaded soul - such living ghosts! This taken journey shall no more lead me to death, for the raven road breeds the still water!

Copyright © | Year Posted 2018




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Book: Shattered Sighs