Ngelegwu, Don't Ever Run Dry. by Ada Aham
Underneath a cloudy sky
A mix patch of greys and blues
I first came before your watery presence
Miles away from the Village square
On that long road
I was five or six years old
Eyes filled with dreams
And a heart overflowing with love
I squealed in delight
As I stood by your banks
Perhaps, I had stood there before
During that war, or soon after
I don't remember
there were no Deja vu flash backs
for my memory had become selective
It's way of dealing with
the horrors of the war
I watched you stretch forth
in an elegant pose,
steeped in the tradition of my ancestry
Not all blue waters
Yet a rippling stream
of waters of life
I often wondered about your source
Baby Brook, stream of my abode
In the raining season, you swell
And give generously to all
In the dry season
We scratch the bottom
of the barrel for a drink
Oh Ngelegwu, please never run dry
For the Lord of the Manor
now lies beside you
His body interred, near your watery essence
While his spirit, has journeyed on
Ngelegwu, my feet have carried me so far
And I may never stand at your banks again
But I carry your memory in my heart
I thrust in your bossom the duty
to nourish and water the land
Where the Lord of the Manor lies
His tomb is the ancestral shrine
Of my Children, their children
And generations unborn.
@copyright ngozichi omekara
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