Worry Not Yoursel'Vs Poem by Eche Ononukwe

Give me minstrels’ seats and not be late;

sit with me in one that I may ask you

the reason why some of you

are still worrying yourselves on why late

some of your flesh and blood marry,

or ev’n at all refuse to get marry.



Give me these seats

that I may comfortably sit

to tell our elders the gospel truth

that was in the beginning:

‘This is the bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh’.



Give me your listening ears that you may hear

that you’re the causes of some of their curses,

having made ‘em chain in your wick’d customs,

making ‘em costly like Christmas cows,

having made ‘em held in your wicked spells.



Give me my own seat

because you have refus’d to sit

and hear me declaim that some have refus’d,

and made their bodies the Holy Temple of God

serving the Only God,

whom they have fall’n in love with, saying:

‘No weapon fashions against me shall succeed! ’



Give me your ear

that I may tell you that two heads bett’r than one;

but in some, one is one problem; two but two problems,

for marriage is good in patience.