What Dirge

By Patricia Jabbeh Wesley 

So what shall I use to wipe my brow?

To bring back a life

snatched away in its prime?

What shall I say, and what shall I lay hands

so helpless upon to wipe the sorrow

from my brow?

What shall I wear to mourn a life

whose end has dealt us this blow?

Shall I wear black, so when our townswomen,

hearing the drums, come wailing, wailing

they shall see the sorrow

of my heart on my dark lappa

Shall I tie a string around my forehead?

Shall I lie prostrate on The Mat?

Shall I cry tears for those you've left us to feed

when we ourselves cannot feed ourselves

in a land where the hungry, forever hungry,

keep the faith?

What dirge shall I sing?

Shall I recount the battles fought at Nganlun?

Shall I sing of blood shed at the cracking of a gun

when I myself am so afraid of the gun?

What shall I say when the women,

hearing my song, come wailing

and knocking at my door?