Village Nights

In my loneliness, I lie in my bed hopelessly listening to the chirping of crickets The consoling breeze blowing from the cracks of my window whistling tunes that re-echo from my bamboo bed sending every hanging object to a dancing practice session thatch reacting to every string in a recession The intermittent cry of lonely owls adds base to the consoling rhapsodies Sounds that also remind villagers About the witches taking off To their fate-deciding kingdoms Kingdom where grown up and deceased share the same bench cooking infants' body parts humming songs of destruction A sudden cry of a baby will be hushed by swearing from an angry parents, a witch patent. At least, they believe So others are awake, relieved I felt The breeze blows and steals the light from my kerosene lamp A precious possession especially in wet seasons, when the moon hoards its brightness Aided by angry clouds that are ready to pour out their pains on the earth I closed my eyes tighter Seeing billions of black and white shadows When the cock crows My pains and fears vanish It is day break I thought to later realize it is still dark Stories of the last night cock's crow Makes the headlines in all riverside petty talk, adults discussions Redemption will be sought from liars, the eyes of the gods With just a few cowries they throw on dirt-ridden floor mats They calculate a non mathematical problem with addition, A mystery on how they arrive at a result With confidence, they will say 'the witch kingdom needs a sacrifice, an infant will die suddenly' The parents of the crying baby Will start relating the story Insults will be aimed at people Barrens, poor childless older fellows will be the target Insults will indirected to these people If by chance the child dies The eyes of the gods will be exalted The barrens, poor old fellows will be confronted, disgraced even sent on exile, to "evil" forests At dusk My fear crawls in Fear of loliness Fear of sleeplessness Fear of the dark Dark village night.