Email Poem

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"Hello, can you hear me?"
"Yes, I can hear you. Speak forth to my ears."
"Now drop your ears to my mouth and hear, brother"
"Ok, here they are"
" I have been betrayed at the backyard and only you
Can bring back the eyes in the darkness to light.
I didn't murder the precious quill I was accused of and, I didn't with held the thousand songs of the mourners. Look into the goat skin bag on the wall,
You will see the evidence of a sparkling eyes that
Will tell you of my innocence.
Returning the market yesterday, I was restricted of my right as a commoner. Stained. Battered. Abused without anyone to fight for me.
Then I killed in defense of my weakness, all eyes were there watching, watching how the mad man slapped and hit me hard, like a harden criminal.
Then I retaliated in tears and killed him right away.
The father took refuge under the roof of his wealth , if the story is told anywhere, I am innocent of the crime, nothing remain except self confession, confession that I am guilty to be killed because, my freedom is gone. I will be hang tomorrow afternoon."
"No, the beads must be taken to the shrine"
"Do not hear with a watery eyes, it is of a truth that your brother will be hang tomorrow. If you can go to the darken shrine this night to tell father, do, but make sure you till the land tomorrow to plant the Ugu, so that we don't die together. Money for the labourers is in the goat skin bag on the wall and, there; is your wrist beads in the cupboard, make sure you wear it to the shrine. There are many gold and silver buried at the inner room behind the clay pot in case you don't know. 
At the shrine, beside the female goddess is a bundles of currency buried by me when papa died. 
Take, merry, and eat; tomorrow may not come to you after am gone. 
In fact, let me tell you this ear breaking tattered tale, father is not your father and I'm not your brother."
"How tattered and dark is this story?"
"So dark, tattered and fearful brother, the man you called father killed your father and took you in a shamed ill mannered surrender of cowardice. Becareful you die not to night in the shrine. Remember, I will be hang tomorrow; becareful, you may or you may not survive this tribulation."
"Please, are you the light or the darkness?"
"Drop your ears again, brother. Darkness defined my dark self and your life have been in darkness because I was in the room with you. 
I will be hang tomorrow, remember; go meet your uncle who is the president of this country if you can survive this. Here I drop my call, we will never see again if tomorrow comes but let all runners of accusation fingers know that life itself is a mystery."




(C) john chizoba vincent
20/1/ 2016
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