Once upon a time...
it was the morning of my years.
and with these feet I diligently tread
the sands of the ancient ages.
these hands fought those battles
that delivered to me my freedom.
these eyes saw into the distance,
deciphering even the spirits' shadows.
these lips produced mellifluous notes
that carried far into moonlit nights.
 
Once upon a time...
it was the morning of my years.
but today the darkness engulfs me
like a blanket of dark rain clouds.
as fire wood burns into effluvium,
so does my existence gently ebb away.
now, i am weak and feeble
and my sight is dim with age.
my limbs shake like Aspen leaves
and my voice is raspy and faint.
 
Once upon a time...
it was the morning of my years.
but behold my night has come.
yet my antique heart is not aggrieved
for i see my essence etched in time.
now, my fighting days may be over,
but my victories are preserved for posterity.
now, my singing days may be long gone
but my melodies will echo for generations.
though my night has finally come
my mornings will never fade away.

© Nkiru Njoku, June 17, 2003