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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.