The owl howled over our rooftop, the baby didn't wake up. Night has swallowed the Sun. The Moon weeps tears of blood.
Eyes twitching furiously like Grand fathers clock.
Mother warned me not to go out when the Sun wakes up from bed but deaf ears did I pay to her warning.
My car somersaults like an atilogwu acrobat, escaped death by the skin of the teeth. I should have listened to mama's premonition.
On the way from the village stream, her left toe hits a stone, the calabash is broken. Could this be a sign, an omen of bad luck lurking.
She approaches home, sea of heads gather, long faces.
What could be wrong, silent lips, bleeding hearts, wet eyes tell the story.
Her mother has gone home to roost. Her bleeding foot hurts not of the pain but that the gods gave her a sign.
When next you sneeze or see a millipede on your path, it just may be a sign of something in the offing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
In the eastern part of Nigeria it is seriously believed that signs precedes major happenings. Nicely written.