Night Poem by Onyenankeya Nzubejah

The sun has died again,
Buried there behind the palms.
The last blushes of shame will disappear from the chins of the sky.
At the graveside the countenance is contagious and dark.
And all are clad in colours of gloom.
Tittering dour elegies.
Through the lenght the hanging darkness will last,
Until the conjurers from distant land, will call out another luminous soul,
From the portals of the East.
Akpa Mann Anderson