Requiem for Favour

No requiem for you

Your singlehood was a scar

That barred you from

The cult of the honoured dead

Believers in a fated existence,

Who blame one too,

For being fate’s puppet–

The irony of wisdom.

But I shall build you a cenotaph tall

Rising from my heart till it kisses the sky

Garland it with tree branches

That flower, sans root, sans soil

The love in my heart, the sole irrigator

And with love mixed with pain,

I scribble this epitaph

Which shall last through ages

Longer than the remembrance children bring

The anthill that survives through generations

Daily whispering your name; Miss Favour Leeman.

——–

© Nnaemeka Oruh