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Sunday, May 23, 2010


She wore red
midriff across her breast
and took the path
that led to her nest

The crickets sang
a melody to the breeze
Jasmine scented night
Moonlit kissed sky

They stood hidden
amongst the brambles
machetes gleaming

She sang along the path
thoughts of loved faces quickened her steps
they moved one pace closer too
the owl screamed a warning
lady you are led
to a fiery slaughter

The moon dipped
they jumped out
incantations galore
faces smeared with terror
one pinched scream
then a whimpered silence
the march to the grove
of the ancestral spirits

Now her red is spattered
with the red of her blood
it is the ritual of ignorance
danced by dead and living
In the eerie market square.
As they danced
her head impaled
on the grimaced mask
of dead ancestors
and her children
wait for her return.


  1. Wow Biola, a very powerful poem...

  2. Biola,

    As always, a powerful poem. It tears and tugs at my heart.

    I am so glad I know you and have experienced the poignant beauty of your poetry.