Treasure Island

Niki Nicholas Nkuna

(1957/01/09 / BURGERSFORT (Leeufallei farm or Ga- Makwakwasi))

The departed spirit


The eclipse of the sun came suddenly,
Like power failure at night,
The only sign was the roar of a motorbike,
Whose sound was cut off,
To welcome the sound of gun fire,
And then suddenly started again,
Roared off like the sound of a fly,
Slowly subsiding as it flies away into oblivion,

The sudden end of the day
Was met with an out pouring of the villagers,
Out of their dwelling in droves,
Amazed at the sudden loss of light,
Heaven ward looking, pleading for mercy,
Could not console the remaining spirit,
Except the rising spirit,
That was taking a final journey,
To be consoled for ever in heaven,

The courting couples consummated their relationship,
With a marriage blessed by satanic spirits,
The evil marriage certificate made of paper money,
Signed with blood,
The satanic oath of vengeance,
One way traffic mind, culminated in the sudden,
Cruel subjugation of the family spirits,
The artificial stars recorded the sound of gunfire and death,
Lest nobody knows who must pay the price,

The mother of the departed spirit is a mass of pain,
The bosom is heartless, a gash of the departed spirit,
Ripped off mercilessly by the sound of the storm,
Spirit paralysis to the remaining nexus of family spirits,
The big wound is festering through the spirits trajectory,
A conduit full of puss is flowing profusely,
Besmirching the heart and soul of goodwill,
The sudden eclipse of the sun signal the end of life,
The survival of the spirit, elusive to all forms of artificial weaponry,
The journey of the spirit is no linear,
Sometimes it had to be somewhere to depart forever,
If it comes back nobody knows except surmising,

The huge hole on the bosom of the bearer of pain,
Can only be plucked by the departed spirit,
Before the bomb shell, there was a silver lining on the horizon,
Few people took noticed,
Even the hovering birds on the sky,
Were a sign of what is to come,
The sudden sound of gun fire was feint to the ears of playing Children playing in the kindergarten nearby,
The innocent spirits kept on floricking,
Notwithstanding the inconsolable cry,
Of the grandmother in the hell hole,
Oblivious to the flow of warm blood on the ground,
Underneath their swings, they kept on swinging,
Even the young spirit connected to the departed spirit,
Frolicked merrily, innocently,
The departed spirit flew through the air silently,
Like the feather of a bird,
Slowly drifting away on a journey of no return,


The wound left by the ripped out spirit has no cure,
The healing is natural, more festering, more puss exuding,
Thereafter the healing process showed signs of recuperation,
The history is written, kept under lock and key,
To be read later, in wounding and consoling of the detached spirit,

9/11/11 NIKI NKUNA

Submitted: Friday, February 10, 2012
Edited: Monday, March 12, 2012

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