Last
evening I went on pilgrimage
To
Moholt cemetery
I
planted a flower on your name
Hoping
your memory
Waters
and petals it into
The
beauty you denied our world
At
sunbirth
And
I recalled
How,
one day,
You
emitted hope from your smiles
Singing
away all doubts and all pains
And
your voice became the libation
In
a gourd of sacrifice
The
rhythm of your waist beads
That
provoked warriors into battle dances
And
the mountain you carry behind you
That
teased away the celibate priest on the other street
Are
all now but eaten by termites
I
shall come this way again
With
you firmly rooted
In
the backyard of my memory
