The Broken Reed Poem by Nwagboso Kosisochukwu

Purely wooden, purely golden
Too tiny and skinny unrecognized
Permitting only a gentle breeze to orchestrate
But all has come to a still
Allowing only a silence that breeds commotion
The party hall has turned into a mourning hall
Because the reed is broken and the orchestra halted

That's how it looks like
A little delicate thin cord called life
Cease the tune of life, and hear the inevitable orchestra by the wreath layers
That men scarcely dance

Just twenty and two years with breath
And she was tagged ripe for eternal sleep by the fathers
Yet Chi-di-mma* - God is good
Chidimma was good also mourners would voice

To say a million things of what life is
We can only caress its shadows
The womb that carried Dimma laboured to elite her
Did she make it to the elite's cadre
Were the grey hairs not looking for the day
She the young blood will aid their moves
And the trainee will become the trainer
But what remains now if not her remains
Yet we believe that ‘Chi di mma*

Before I lay to rest my nib
Take heed Chi di' mma**
Chidimma tried being human
‘Chi dim ma**! Chidimma received cancerous nasal body purgation
I pray thee to use it and wing her soul
To fly about in the company of the glorified