Sage Corner

Virgin Bride
I was sixteen, she was fourteen
When I first saw her
Though our eyes met
There were no words between us
But our hearts coalesced
In the realm of the spirits.
That night, I could not sleep
For my heart was in rage,
My soul was in turmoil
For this celestial maiden.
As I closed my eyes,
I saw her golden curls,
Eyes that flamed with virtue,
Chalice-like mounds of Venus
And ant-like waist balanced on delicate legs,
Lips quivering like an arrow
From a taut bow.
Oh, how my spirit wrestled!
I was convinced she belonged to me
For whispering spirits of ages told me so.
The agony of waiting of waiting
Was sweet-pain like the sting of the bee
But with the taste of its honey.
I could not claim my bride for sixteen
She must be, tradition says.
But we met in the woods
and rolled on the village green
Dreaming dreams of time to come
Yet not taking the fruit before
The Night of Remembrance.
2
The night I claimed my bride,
The words were few.
Our souls met and communion
In a land far above.
I was eager, she was nervous
So Eros summoned all her bed chambers
To minister to us as we paid obeisance
At her altar.
That night, I felt virtue flow.
Our souls met in eternal bond.
Oh, how our days were filled with
Joy unknown, laughter shared
And troubles confronted.
3
Then one day,
How I hate to recall
My broken walls, shhhh…
My soul grieves, sorrow weighs me down.
Twice have I aged and my eyes gone dim
with tears.
Home was no more homely for my beloved.
She left, she left me in the mid of living.
She did not leave for home beyond
But for another.
My Unung* fell to him that that came in the
Clothes of the city;
He that spoke like those whose noses are tied.
He had a motor-car and with the fineries
Of the city he bewitched my ebony
And entrapped her soul to sin.
She forgot our years of bliss and the promise
Of time.
The lyricism of life was unbalanced,
The soul of love crushed.
I wept for virtue lost.
I pleaded, I threatened
But my Sylphlike Princess laughed me to scorn.
4
Years rolled by and each day I looked down
The road hoping to see my one true bride along.
My soul never wearied of her return to rebuild
The broken homestead.
Alas, she never came!
The story in whispers came then loud.
My love, the only true friend of the heart caught
The sickness of thinness.
Her new man grew tired and left her.
Oh, how I hate the day I first saw her
Even more the day he came and stole her away.
With none to care and medicine to the rescue failed,
Her silver cord left on the journey beyond.
Even now, I pray for her sailing in gentle waters
Till her boat berths to rock no more.
Adieu my Virgin Bride!

(c)Ogbeche, e
July, 2003


*Unung-beautiful one