SICKLE CELL

SICKLE CELL The spirits wandered, of the unbornHomeless children, we were toldTheir mission, to wreck familiesWhen they were born into this worldThen died unexpectedly youngThe grief mothers felt, they pleadedFor the child to stay, and shareThe evening meal with the livingYou came with many infant facesAsking for the impossibleThen hid behind the doorMocking with boastful vengeanceYou were abiku, esion emana or ogbanje We knew you from the marks on your backWhich we placed, when you first cameTake the goat and the cock, we beg of youI spill their blood for you, drinkAnd leave my only child aloneHe said, he likes it here, very muchSo, look for playmates elsewhereThe wind blew off the spiritual veilAnd I see your formless face, peepingAh! I know you, not by the marksNot what people believed you to beYou are a disease of the bloodSickle cell anaemia, endorsing the dead