The Village gods have spoken
The chewing of the kola has ended on one of the goddesses laps
The aroma could be seen vaporizing in tiny flames
The gods seem solemn
Tear drops falling heavily like coconuts.
On this silent day of no birds flying across this vast ocean of the sky
Where light sits glamorously on his throne for his emir-ship
With darkness talking in no hearing at the abyss of no seeing
Consciousness at this hill of who is who
Can’t be sipped from one calabash
of destined to sharing with the 900 gods and goddesses of this shrine.
The Village Thinker © 2014