SONGS OF A SAINT WITCH

When old age becomes a curse

And the aged labelled witches;

Accused,afflicted and rejected

If this is the fruit of old age

Please give me not

For I need not.

I have become the devil in your prophecies,

The devil that gave you life?

That nurtured and gave you all?

Where was this evil when I gave you my all?

Now old and helpless,

Then you seek justifications for your rejection…

Now then I sing,

When this flesh shall give up

And my soul shall fly up

To rest in perfect peace

No, please give me not,

The hypocritical last honour.

Fattens of cows to be slaughtered;

Thousand canopies mounted;

Millions guests to bid me unheard farewell

Golden casket to lie me on state

Expensive programme to write your lies

Please this feigned honour give me not!

And if perchance you do,

Remember to tell the world

The last time you called on my domicile

Where I am dumped to die in instalments

Tell them the last time

I fed from crumbs that fell from your table…

Remember to tell them too,

The last time you sent me rags

To cover my bony body….

All these remember

When you feign to write me a tribute.

Tell my grandchildren__

The ones you never let to come to me

For I was tagged “A Witch” by your prophet…

Tell them granny loves them

And may they never pay you in equal coins

For this abandonment…

Let the link break..

© Etim Bassey Onyam