Nehanda: the Prophetess

Nehanda: The War Prophetess Nehanda bore the groin That animated or begot me With a hardly wrapped loin Peeping Toms tried to see; Hanging by the cruel rope She spun a ghastly surprise; As she gave up the spirit: “One Day My Bones Will Rise Angry, from this grimy grit!” *** Nehanda met her death By Hypocrisy’s grisly hand Her grave bore no wreath Bones scattered in the Land! I celebrate this prophecy Each Independence Day That begot sweet Democracy From Throes of Yesterday. I stir in my mother’s Bones And lisp tongues of brevity I hearken as she intones With cries of typical clarity For, this inviolable groin Is not a soft underbelly Wan Cloth wrapping loin Is never soft as your jelly! *** Pendant on Death’s Tree Killer’s heart filled with sate She beamed face to see Ugly grimace full of Hate Deeply yearning for her child Thus she cried aloud her last That sent men into the wild To correct this Ugly past! *** Nehanda my sweet Mum I love you with my heart I yearn sulking with a thumb Now cankered with a wart I yearn fawning on that bosom Whose nurture had reason To coax shrubs to blossom In undue summer season! *** This is my charming mother Someone labelled a bother With reasons quite sallow Minds shut and so narrow With Hate quite skin deep Fated like an obliging sheep! JM 22nd Oct’ 2013