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The Snake

By Chijioke Ekumaoko
August 21, 2010

Speak now! As I ask you,
Speak! Ageless tongue of truth,
Was it black?
You said all umbilical cords.
Sure! Your true tongue,
Knows no error.
Why this unbridgeable parallel life?

We bear not pain again,
But wear it in pleasure,
Unassailable pain!
Black umbilical cords,
Wither for dry tongue
Their shrinking intestine
Inscribes between the wrinkles
Of their facial sign-post,
Shouting!
Poverty, illiteracy, ill-governance,
Unemployment and the worst still . . .

My knees are appealing to thee.
As I ask you,
Was the snake black?
That deceived mother of all ages.
For they over, suffer not much.
Human maladies are oceans part,
Serenity, hilarity and fun-seeking
Is but their life career.

My head drum is wide open,
Answer me! Ancient tongue of truth
Was the snake black?
That we lavish in anguish!
We know nothing but strife
From the cutting
Of the umbilical cord,
To the fading
Of the golden cord,
Is nothing but tearful pains.
I ask was the snake black?

[Author’s comment: A close look with sympathy on African suffering worldwide and an inquiry to know if it is sanctioned by God.]