In the Belly of the Whale

Like Jonah who fled the God’s voice,
They turned from her as if by choice.
A daughter born with moonlit skin,
Yet marked by pox; a dreaded sin.

She sits alone by the Iroko tree,
Her mother’s eyes refuse to see.
Father utters brutally and in disdain,
Like her birth had brought them shame.

The village gongs no longer call,
She dwells where shadows rise and fall.
Like Jonah buried in the deep,
She rescinds into the dark to weep.

The river sings while the night wind hums,
But love from kin she wishes never comes.
Even the rain like heaven’s tear,
Falls to cleanse but not draw near.

Yet spirits whisper through the land,
The gods will take her by the hand.
For storms may rage and kin betray,
But fate will lift the lost one’s way.