Site icon Angie's Diary

He was my Brother


He was my brother
His peeling skin
and distended stomach
eyes glazed from
several kegs of palm wine
he made bad medicine
and sold family land
ignored several warnings

As I watch him on
the bier before the elders
I see the color of my life
with him
black, tinged with the red of pain,
a little green of filial service
slight traces of pink for love
but not enough to make a rainbow.

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