WITCH HUNT


A seething night heat
Moving air funneled into an imaginary hell hole
A blitzkrieg of mosquitoes 
expending their wish like firecrackers
chanting martial music in one's ear
A shadow of evil dressed in that one-colour-for-all-occasion
The bogeyman's hooded pants sporting countless pockets of darken nooks
Everyone is dead now
As the heavenly street lamp flickers on
The city clock hits twelve
To an epoch of extra human resurrection
Mongrels are bawling ominously at aliens dropping from the outer worlds
A great black invisible chimera surges into the still air
sends one loud piercing shrill
Suddenly time recourses to a backdated renaissance cinema house
A beckoning
Your primal instinct heightens
An earth quakes on every corner of your heart's beating chambers
Till you astral travel to another new world
A world of black and white hue paved in burn brushes
You are in a marketplace - a noisome one
The scenes twirls before your eye
faster that than the visible light spectrum
In a minute your skin slowly crawls up to its creator
A hand falls heavily like a metal cuff on your shuddered shoulder
Announcing a presence that excites every hair of your body
A standing candelabrum with nine flaming eyes of inferno
The image of an old man with
A collage of rivulets on his face running free from pole to pole
Fear grips you hard like a kidnapper's threat
Lips gives way as if to speak but nothing comes forth
As a gravid cloud refusing to shower
You hold his gaze
you recognize him all too well
In the former world - he was
Known by several names: like son, husband, father, boss,ruler, president, royal
In the former world
You washed his faeces-stained pants,
did the long hours and followed without questions
He was a god reveling in glory and you were -
The poor servant lusting after the gloated trove of his miracles
For a second breathing moment you behold
The red hot embers that sits in his eye sockets as an ottoman
sending clouds of framed memories
Quick!!! It comes back to you like a suggestion in a dream
What the dread locked dervish sputtered
as he did his spasmodic disco dance he bespoke -
Of the source of your misery
The stream of your endless tribulations
Of the root of your mishaps
And there it stood
in brazen defiance before your very eye
The old man with many names
the glowing splinter of yesteryears misdeeds in his eye and
A smile too treacherous to dismiss
A steely grip as the metal cuffs to keep you bowed
like a sworn slave buried with his African monarch (abobaku)
The old man that witch haunts you since
You were nothing but a clutter of motherless cells up to your old frail self,
Memories -
Memories of what you could have been.

Yet as you take one last peer
but for the last time every detail of his old frail self
You recognize an unmistakable sameness
And all this time
in the former life,
It was you: The oppressed and the oppressor,
Two equal and opposite nature: the former and new
It was you all this time.

Comments

  1. This poem was inspired initially by one of those random events. One night, I was in company of some of my old folks and exactly by 12 midnight, we heard a loud shrill from a bird. Someone said 'God will punish you.' At first, there was quiet, then i remember i was the only one in the room that busted into laughter much to the gawking elders.
    Then I remember as a kid i was constantly told to be wary not to anger witches and other element that could destroy my life.
    Hahaha!!!

    ReplyDelete

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