I Am and I Will



By Chukwujekwu Mbanefo Chukwuewenite


Another dawn has given birth to a wrecking ululation which echoed all through our little cottage
The dreaded vulture of doom has struck again with its savage
The wince inducing echo has made our ear tubes patulous with its carnage
It has served a dish of despair for the dotage.

This vulture of doom flies across our tent ‘phew’
It lays its claim on its prey and places growth on a curfew
The victim of this siege is the entire fowl
But its venom picks apart a singular structure first, and twists its neck like an owl
With the neck of the owl twisted inside-out,
The sweetest of meals become bitter and sour
Eyes become sunken, and limbs straightened out like chin-chin flakes on a roller

Then the inhabitants of our cottage begun to pose questions
Queries that will be answered on the ritual table of the men in white
These queries give birth to a barrage of incantations
Incantations to uncover the venom of a vulture, that will bestow misery and pain, just by its tidings.

So a journey has thus began, a fate whose stimulant is quiet unknown
A suspicion that the vulture of doom could have carved its niche on our cottages bloodline is left untold
Our cottage owns a spring for which we are thankful to our stars but even the suspicion runs wild there
Ugba, azu ndụ, amongst others our beautiful delicacies, should we now starve here

What petal has its scent attracted this butterfly
To what rotten corpse has it come to dish out punishments
What has triggered this lawless fight
As this vulture’s venom has no diluent
Like a parasite it thrives to starve its host
It keeps on taking and taking till its victim has no reason to boast.

And thus, I am a lone wolf in this ensnared clan
Beaten down by what tomorrow may bring
A little wind toss and am blown away
A little roar on the door handle and it seems it is swinging for me

But I raise my voice to that poor widow with a fisticuff sized ball around her breast
I raise my voice to speak courage and zest
For this vulture has thrown its curveballs
And only great warriors will stand at that end point to gather up the balls and shove it back

My ears hearkens the plight of the old granny in our cottage who now uses a pipe to urinate
Who stands on our single public toilet for so long, just to eradicate wastes
Who is on these monstrous pills that has made him prone for ailments to violate
And whose pains runs down his waist.

To you dear Akwete, who has thought the members of our clan the values of love
But now cannot consummate your precious dove
Your long hair has now been shaved by pills
And your long nails all fallen to this deal.

A war that began when we moved from our local rice to some sought of snake like recipe
When a chimney was cited close to our spring
When we began to seek fragrance through deodorants
When we needed more flavor in our delicacies.

And thus, this fight is a fight to the finish
As this vulture is the lack that takes our abundance
We can render this vulture all famished
We can win this war with utter dominance and the line begins with me…


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