Eyin-Nta Poem by Vincent Onyeche

Eyin-nta, Eyin-nta
A tree witches don't perch on
From as far as a child's parent great grandparents
Standing rigid on the sands of thy fathers
Looking ordinary way beyond its protections
Mulish to all the evil acts and suggestions
Mystic says: witches don't perch on it.

Eyin-nta, Eyin-nta
Spreading branches wide and long
On it, only god-birds sings a song
Sunny or rainy: its leaf drops
Like tears and sweat drops
From its fierce elastic stems
Mystic says: witches don't perch on it.