Morning after Feok

1. 

All is still and soundless
As the mighty calm after a storm 
The land is at rest
Tired and worn out from the trampling 
And stomping these last many days  
From homes, to the palace, the market 
And back to homes again with drums 
Humming and buzzing all day nonstop 
Horns and whistles calling from rooftops 
Singing the praise of ancient warriors 
Men’s blood boiling in response 
And hearts throbbing with the drums 
All is now spent and silent.

      2.       

The patter of the feet of excited children 
The dainty steps of maidens 
The eager stride of energetic youths 
The heavy drag of grey-bearded men 
The resounding trod of war dancers 
And sweaty women chasing them 
Round and round the marketplace 
That made the land throb and tremble 
All that is now still and resting. 
All are wearied with aching joints 
And sprained muscles sore 
None is stirring.

      3.       

The air is thick and still
Clad in a heavy cloak of dust 
Looming over the horizon 
Like an approaching storm. 
The trees stand motionless 
Even the birds are not stirring yet 
Safe one strange solitary bird 
Calling in the distance 
Breaking the silence before the break 
Of the frigid Harmattan draughts 
That will dissipate the dusty curtain 
And all come alive at once again.

28/12/2015

Sandema

Read the prequel to this poem here