Annual Hymns

Sisters of the grey night, Assemble on the chest of the hill. The heavens enjoy seeing your wild gowns billow along When the winds hiss with humble pride, And when your restless lips murmur praises To the Most High — In elevated voices and strength. Remember the summons and hasten Towards the crest of the hill. Curse the viper’s mouth and spit upon its fangs. You have the powers for both. Brothers of the naked night, Come stealthily and unshod. Kick your sandals off at the sleeping stream Near the hushed valley of friendliness. Your white flowing robes shall accompany you, Fluttering with the power of the flag of a newly Independent state. With faith, Spell and pronounce the name of the owner of the earth, Rebuke loudly the approach of the spider Kill off all encroaching network of webs And chide the princes of the night jungles... White robes Tongs of fire Double fires of white wood ants Shining candles with brave flames Constellations of nearby firmaments The progressions of the apostles.... These very last moments of the Mat of the seasons. Seething raspy waves from the chest of Uturu* hills — Prayers and canticles so frightening! *A town in south-eastern Nigeria