He was my brother
His peeling skin
and distended stomach
eyes glazed from
several kegs of palm wine
he made bad medicine
and sold family land
ignored several warnings
As I watch him on
the bier before the elders
I see the color of my life
with him
black, tinged with the red of pain,
a little green of filial service
slight traces of pink for love
but not enough to make a rainbow.
