The Courtyard Of Shadows Poem by Koffi B Sossou

The village sees the deacon's robes, the silver at his chest,
They hear the prayers of Ayenou, and think his soul is blessed.
But I have seen the serpent's coil beneath the holy word,
I've lived the truth of treachery that goes on all unheard.
​My own blood brother whispered low that I was worth no more
Than dust upon the summer road or salt upon the floor.
And when Santana stole my bride and locked the house's gate,
My brother didn't mourn my loss—he smiled upon my fate.
​He brought the masons to the house, our father's sacred ground,
Where once only the family voice and honest prayer were found.
He sat the thief at father's table, served him meat and wine,
The man who sought to take the hand that once was joined with mine.
​To see the rival in the yard, to see the brother's grin,
Is to feel a cold and heavy knife go sliding through the skin.
Humiliation was my bread, depression was my light,
Until the eve of Christmas came to set the wrong to right.
​I cleared the courtyard of the ghosts, I used a heavy hand,
Against the man who stole my wife within my father's land.
And when Djimese, the uncle forced the gate, I met him with the wood,
Defending what remained of home as any husband should.
​Now Ayenou wears his victim's mask, a deacon in his pride,
Spreading a holy web of lies to keep the truth inside.
The village bows to hear his tale, they see the wounded brow,
But they do not see the broken man the deacon's lies allow.