Voice to the Voiceless
Fortune Nwaiwu
And by the sounds of his samba Shall millions of dancers sprout .
My Soul Longs for Him ( Spoken by the Widow )
I have no cases of infertility As you may think .
My womb has in her mercy Brought forth four stillbirths for him ; The unlucky children who could not see the Earth .
Tears of desolation have torn My entire being into pieces As I gaze endlessly upon the funeral processions , A crowd of people taking The wrapped lifeless bodies To dump into a passage through which the mortals Will surely walk in perpetual sighs .
My eyes ached to see Mother Earth swallow them Without mercy under the shield And arms of the thick forest Which has existed Before the advent of foreign religion .
I could not help but ask ,
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