The Rituals
It was a silent night,
The sun retiring along
With the day consumed by fatigue.
I presumed the gentle wind got tired
of its travail against the now relaxing sun;
But it was my last time out on such night.
I was bundled like a treacherous fugitive
Getting ready to kiss life goodbye.
I struggled with these guys in bloody hood,
But was made to slumber, for they were not in
tolerable mood.
My awareness returned at midnight,
But it was no good to me.
Death crawled towards me, conquered my breath
With her sacred songs,
I was slaughtered,
Butchered
Like a pigeon
Murdered at the command of a chameleon.
My ghost stood, she tried holding my arms,
But to my ghost,
I was an image, written in the winds.
My knees crumbled, my breasts sold out to
cannibals,
My carcass shared by the gods with ordained calls.
I was sacrificed,
I became their ritual,
Because I was fearless enough to stroll at night.
I became a blood that defiled the book of history.
One day I hope you unravel this mystery.
