[My Brother’s Bride] My Brother’s Bride 4 {The End} by Chukwuma Anyanwu

[My Brother’s Bride] My Brother’s Bride 4 {The End} by Chukwuma Anyanwu

TRACES

Droplets, salty,
Bitter, sweet,
Clotted blood
Rain down my cheeks

Heavy like sagging breasts
Threatening to blind
The upturned faces
The palms fall back on impact

Traces of plenty
In the north, east
In the south
Now fill up the west

The pest is here
The beast is there
By the threshold
The virus is within!

 

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As they approach
Honour flees,
Dignity grows wings
At sight of mother’s sons!

She gave birth to a flea
Sucking from the land…
And from her
Not sparing the lambs!

When a flea bites you,
You breathe flea
You excrete flea
Your touch makes another flea!

So it spreads
The land is now flea-land
Mother is desecrated
By illegitimate ones

These sons had no hand
They were not there
When she came to be
But they have laid her bare

When a son of the soil is corrupt
His laugh is corrupt,
His handshake is corrupt
He farts corruption!

The land stinks
From the north
To the east and south
All stinking down the west!

No more traces
Of the good days
Only of noisome breath
Oozing out of fat nostrils!

And bellies
Harbouring eternal babies
A sign, a curse
Of the cries they have wrought

 

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[My Brother’s Bride] MY BROTHER’S BRIDE 2 by Chukwuma Anyanwu

Some three decades
The east shouted foul
A lone voice from the west
As the north rose to extinguish

The voice of protest
A cry against injustice
The west supported
To stifle the rising sun

The traces abound
Wherever they arise
From the east…
Kill them! They dared survive!

But the east bears the light
And the light is the light of man
The rays bathe us in forgiveness
For the sake of oneness

Now, those traces arise
Old, experienced, bloated,
But against the west
The shouts again, foul!

The nation is in revolt
All the guns that destroy
All the cannons of ruin
Were loaded in his house!

But we overlook it,
We must, not for him
For our selfish rights
Because the gods protest!

I feel drops of sorrow
Of our ancestors –
The living, the dead, the unborn
The most fortunate of the lot!

We celebrated khaki boys
In his house,
We rejoiced with them
The two-edged sword!

While we die in June
Let the would be in-laws
Tell us how it came about
Our rights, our rights, our rights

A toad has wisdom
Preferring darkness
The rabbit shares it
But man plays the moth!

Traces of half truths
Untold stories
Incomplete co-incidences
Battle mother’s children!

Sell pride, forget wealth
The Redeemer counselled
Go to the ants, learn wisdom
We will die in your defence!
The gap-toothed one
Did not just do it…
Did he retaliate?
Perhaps he double-crossed?

It can’t be for nothing
Our ancestors cannot lie
Bastards have fathers
So must June!

Droplets, salty,
Bitter-sweet,
Clotted sorrow
Rain down my cheeks!

The baby is crying…
Who beat you, my child?
It is uncle-
And what did you do to uncle?

I, I, I-did-not-do-him-anything?
A riddle, a mystery
Uncle is a sadist
He thrives on innocent sorrow!

June must have a father
The gap toothed one knows,
Hope Ninety-three is witness
In the land of Better life!

The crowd is fed
Nurtured on adulterated truth
‘Your rights are violated!’
‘Is that so? Action…!’

 

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Kill…crush…destroy…murder
Burn…loot…wreck…revenge;
Down with oppression,
Seal their mothers’ cunts!

The next day…
The real destroyers shake hands
The crowd smile sheepishly
They lost nothing!

The money
For reconstruction,
Rehabilitation, yes,
Reconciliation belongs to Everybody.

And Everybody
In Better life is Nobody…

Some are crated animals,
Some champagne bottles!
The real bodies crawl
To be with the ancestors
Without knowing why

June must not have a father
Yet June has a father
We played midwife
Gave birth to a baby
Alas! An unnamed baby!

Between the wife
And the husband
Is knowledge of the child’s paternity
But the child belongs to All.

Roads have beginning
Oceans have source
Rains are provoked
And so must June

Mother’s children are one
Collectively they grew
Into a fat, fat crab
Growing backwards!

We rode in cars
Flew in the air
Cooked with electric
Only yesterday!

Today we walk
Sometimes we crawl
We torture the bushes for firewood
Abandoned ages ago!

In this land of Better life
Hotels, kitchens, all sorts
Do not catch fire
But Finance houses, Defence…

Innocent is guilt
Guilt is innocent
The judge saw it all
He supervised the crime!

From the East
South, and West
Money flows through mother’s veins
Down pipelines to the waste!

Down the drain
Fixed in vaults
By her wasted sons
Aptly called wasted generation

My blood is congealed
By food from the bins
Prescribed by the crate
The menu from June!

I am hungry,
Thirsty, I am thirsty!
I crave for truth
The rights of my wounds!

What happened,
Ah, gap-toothed man?
What really transpired
Eh, Hope Ninety-three?

Between the two of you
About-to-be-in-laws
What happened between…
A few months before June!

My rights, my rights, my rights
Are not a piece of paper
Nor are they half truths
My rights are the bitter Plain faced truth!

Naked like mother’s supple body
Erect as her nipples
Before pink hands touched
Those are my rights!

On June we die!
On June we shall die
On June we hope to live
But not on June void of truth!

The voices shake
Newspapers lie
Television and radio are false
They tell embellished truth!

All is speculation
Rumours, hear-says
Third person reports
Treason, treason, Felony!

Who is to prosecute?
They kill us with lies
Who is patriotic?
Our heroes are dead!

All, all, all
Ah, take me to the south
To Johannesburg
Where God left a man!

Where our ancestors fled
Macaulay, Jaja, Ramat, Aguiyi
Nzeogwu, Tai, beckoned
By Shaka the leader of men!

Mandela, do come,
Visit, teach the teachers
Tell them money is a harlot
It cannot stain noble ancestry

Tears cloud my eyes
I sweat blood
June must have a father
Before I die, let June
Be accepted by his father!
(To the peasants of Nigeria. Truth)

THE END.

© Chukwuma Anyanwu

Author’s bio:

[Profile] Boniface Chukwuma Anyanwu

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