Poems

He Tells Tales of Meroe

As if his Croak comes out from his stoney attire
as if his voice tones change colour, in the darkness, washed (drenched) in the layers of eternity

when I saw him lost in thoughts and loneliness
in the Museum’s display unit
I remembered (recalled) his first seed of life mixed with his motherly clay
he was snatching his prey with saliva
deceiving his predators  with camouflages and other tricks
waking up like (with) his peers, from his seasonal hibernation,
to a new season of mating
(All this) before he became an enigmatic relic (displayed) behind glass
as if narrating the tale of Merawi
as was a witness of its demise, once, and as was a witness of its grandeur gloriousness,
as if preparing himself for life, in his last siesta, 
with new attire, new crown and a new tongue.

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