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On life and its vagaries

When the past come asking for its due

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There is a rite practiced by a community in my land to call their ancestors back from the dead by allowing them to enter their bodies by going into a sort of trance, with the help of the beating of drums and using various sorts of intoxicants. These are held at night and would go into the small hours of the morning. I have often watched these performances………

When the past come asking for its dues

In the spotted light of gas lamps

I see a motley crowd

All drunk, all blabbing, all in haze of smoke

And I see people shrieking-

Flogging themselves mercilessly with canes

I see specially lighted fires

And live cockerels soon to be drained-

Like bottles of hot red wine

And I see him, the elder of them all

Shrieking like crazy

“Bring it to me” He cries himself hoarse

“Bring me my weapon”

Feeling guilty I leave the place and

Slink away into a night full of stars

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Written by Sam

January 28, 2010 at 2:49 pm

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