Late House Girl Poem by David N. Munene

In those eyes was hazel
Such as in any special damsel
The voice melodious
Chin upheld – glorious
Like the feeling of notoriety
That grippeth a saint’s posterity
The gait in her walk startled reality
And she from others created disparity

Never had she a chance
Like others of her sex in the urbans
Her hair always covered in turbans
Dilapidated torn turbans
Hers heart ugly wasn’t
Ice-like it isn’t
For her dignity withstood
The tests of times in the hood
A mere village girl
Our simple house girl

Standing tall yet humble,
Walking small without a stumble
Her manners a rock
Such discipline was her character’s lock
The image of womanhood
Phenomenally visible to the neighborhood
Just outstandingly good
Like keenly prepared baby-food
The touch of class she lacked
Was block upon which she her power stacked

Worked so hard
Never got mad
Her pay so meager
Dad and mum never eager
To review her contractual terms
Yet she worked to dislocation her arms
She never said no
When sent would always go
Not because she had clothes to show
She always sung whilst in the waters
Even when scolded on not-hers matters

I will always recall
That day when I came from school
I placed to her a call
To request that she makes me choc
Only to find on the main door a lock
After no one had answered my knock,
I called out and called out
No one heard my shout
I was left perplexed
Until some red liquid flowed
The sole of my shoe it flowered

Police took her body away
Must have been far away
Coz I never saw her again
She hangs on my brain
Twenty years on
Like the very first song
I learnt in school nursery
Miss her like a bird does an aviary
Her case of murder never resolved
It has around the bigwig revolved
Who had attempted to her morals defile
But she stabbed herself in guile
‘Ore the bastard made his immoral call