Ikenga

Great father!
With ashen head and hurt heavy heart,
I stagger into your hallowed presence
I’ve brought neither wine nor kola
for that which gives me chase, knows no pause
I come unreeling woe, my lord.
The bile is cut, the land is sour
The chameleon sprints, his regal strut shed
Sleep’s fled from the civet’s eyes.
Great father!
A stranger dropped on our shores
and now, the sacred boa lies impaled,
dripping oil into fires, fed fat by your effigies
A stranger dropped on our shores
and now, your heroics are fables
inspired by inebriation
A three-tailed lizard sweeps your land, Ikenga
slashing gullies into our ways.