Page 34 of Collected Poems
across scrublands and seven rivers, a long-prepared
hangman's loop in their hand
quickly circled his neck
as he died
and the gods
and ancestors
were satisfied.
III
They are strong and to be feared
they make the mighty crash
in ruin like iroko's fall
at height of noon scattering
nests and frantic birdsong
in damped silence of deep
undergrowth. Yet they are fooled
as easily as children those deities
their simple omnipotence
drowsed by praise.
Lament of the Sacred Python
I was there when lizards
were ones and twos, child
Of ancient river god Idemili. Painful
Teardrops of Sky's first weeping
Drew my spots. Sky-born
I walked the earth with royal gait
And crowds of human mourners
Filing down funereal paths
Across lengthening shadows
Of the dead acknowledged my face
In broken dirges of fear.
