The Virgin's last breath
It is a morning calm and still
On the valley covered in lush green
The sun is creeping over the hill
The lilies of the valley in their full sheen
Scattered around in this picturque scene
Are yellow maringold and blossom white
And wild flowers fighting to be seen
Praising heaven for another daylight
Underneath a tall rainforest tree
Sit i quietly taking inventory
Of a brand new day so gay to see
But there is a hidden history
Six seasons rainfall cannot wash
Nor could six seasons wind sweep
Six years now, i will tell it afresh
For heaven still look down on men and weep
Here, not far, i swear, about six feet
Is the footpath to the village stream
Not far still, from where three roads meet
To the stream, to the farm, the last you wouldnt dare dream
Was the story of this virgin ever told
By them who saw her that faithful day
Here, on this valley, six seasons old
I will be telling it again today
'A sweet hapless innocent miss
So fresh in her maiden bloom
With swelling breasts, a delight to kiss
Had met her fated doom
What vile act of man, what shame!
What unspeakable evil, what dishonor!
Are the hearts of men so untame
In their arrogance and lustful nature'
With her earthen pot, on that lonely path
She made her way to the village stream
And the cold intuition of death
Was scarce in her wildest dream
But evil trailed her, with eyes unseen
And observed her close and carefully
Vile men looking rough and mean
Yet the sweet thoughted virgin sang cheerfully
Not beyond this familiar path
Did she take a step away
For upon this worn brown earth
She had trodden day to day
[...] Read more
poem by Okonkwo Osamedua. Allen
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
