Holds to the bowl
Of a chief’s house has snapped
His living stream
Ceased pouring from the flask,
What has happened
To my inheritance
A son now asks?
What has happened?
The day you heard the sound of creaking echoes
Echo back piercing through your anvil?
It was the weaker vessel of your home
Some thought, he had a grip
But when you heard her frame finally succumb
It was not because of freedom
That she squealed her writhen song
What has happened to my inheritance,
You now ask?
When the residues of her dissolved
Like white ash
And the wind whisked her away
Leaving the scent only of mace
Can’t you see?
Your would-be kingdom fell the day
He clenched, tightly seized
The most faithful
"To let her off"
"Make her go!"
"What good was she?"
"Not worth the task
So was your mother
His shadow to surrender
Because another blood flew in her
Her type were the Noirs
And half of you is she, you see
But do you know your other?
Of the native kind
In Niamey, Niger?
Goaded on by his own mother
Against a people of the corner
Her people, yours true!
Stripped down, unveiled, unmasked
For all she was not
His better half
So what has happened to your well you still ask?
Now the water has stopped pouring
From his fragile flask
And the handle that was torn
Away from his black kettle
His weaker vessel
A damsel to bend the back
No, she coughed, you see!
Yes she piped
She popped,
Eclipsed indeed!
Who could have told the chief?
Of his position with no heir
That before the vessel came crashing
His only hope,
His kingdom was divided as spoils
His living well was well, exposed!
The locals of his hold thirsty
The remains of the drinking bowl
Blew to enemies
The people his mother cursed
The shadows he barked at
Now they talk back
"Drink from us
And taste your own mercy"
