The Widow Poem by John Chizoba Vincent

In the black cloth of wednesday misery
I saw her in the dark tunnel
She sold her soul to mourn her mortal husband
Who left without even a goodbye to her
Her hair cut in a fashionable manner
She sat among wolves weeping for help
Her black shabby cloth mock her being
Death has sold her into slavery
And thrust her children into the street of misery
Neck bent low in the powerful concoction of emotion
I asked her why she wallow in fear whilst the day still young
She told me the ear breaking news of the donkey years
her Husband's bathing water was given to her to drink
I saw them holding her firmly, forcing he like a funeral ram
She felt like the inexperienced kite who went carrying
A duckling but was ordered by its mother to return it
Because the duck had said nothing but silence, just walk
away, it means a lot.
'Go carry a chick, it mother shouts and curses and the
Matter ends there' she told her child
Why torment her, why torment her?
She didn't kill him nor was she the reason why he died
I screamed in anger against the black hearts
They told me its the tradition of the blacks
They whispered a word so barbaric to my ears
I watched them handed her over to her husband's brother
That lady was too pretty to be tormented by tradition
I saw her rose broken in public, her pride tarnished
i hid my self but couldn't hide the pains
Oh Africa, why deposit thou suffering on womanhood?
Delivering in pains, pregnant in tears
When husbands die, the woman killed him
But when wife dies, the husband love another.
I reject motherhood if this what they pass
Through in this civilised world of joy.
Hear me all evil doers heaven have its judgment
When i watched them took her away
She told me to talk good of her to her children
Then i woke up and discovered i was still in this
Evil world where widows are tormented.