Now that the sun is black:

The womb too is in an array of disgust

And her face never shines beneath his footsteps

But a lion upon a weak intruder

Four have seized breathing

Earthed beneath the baobab forests

And for the last two, males.

Their cheeks tattooed with silver earrings.

Now that the sun is still black:

Her body drenched in an estuary

And her eternity, re-birthed and

Renamed Chaaalo

The laughing stock has been found

In her dressing, walking, dancing, singing and talking

The shameless creed has been broth to earth

That eats even in broken calabashes at the bantaba

The toiling slave has been picked up from the ditch

That labors all day in their ceremonies

But patience is her sure name

Till the nakedness of the sun arise,

And the loopholes of the ants

Brightened than mid-day in the tropics

Then they odd in appearance

So that he [she] will not return

Back to the spirits of the old.

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