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About This Poem
paths of the lost souls
hostile are the huts
rolled are heads over heads
niger-maidens are encycled
niger-maidens are weeping
raising their piercing voices
amid the torturing rites
of the years of rotten memories -
the slavers are here
with thousands of gifts
his face turns down-wards
he must leave the clan -
leaving the friends
leaving the forest
leaving the known paths
forever
the battered limbs
the battered arms
the battered brains -
as memory can't tell
what the years hid like the graves
& niger sighs along
these paths of the lost souls
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