Broken Calabash

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Africans believe in the use of calabash. A broken one is only useful to complement the firewood or thrown in the dump. This poem warns of never losing our value in society.

Broken Calabash

A broken calabash at the hilltop of filth,

Alone outside the domain of the precious:

Caused by the sun and rain, night and day,

Gradually, she’s fading into the consuming earth.

What is she good for?

She had lost her space in nature;

She can no longer stand beside ornaments,

Never to hold water or palm wine anymore,

Neither can she be mended.

He that knows how to wash his hand clean,

Will dine and wine before kings.

Only the child with an open arm:

Can be gladly lifted up by he who cares.

Judas’ glory can’t be restored,

Peter’s destiny can’t be altered.

The ears take over when the eyes are down.

Nothing complements the head when it is cut off.

It can be glued together to form a whole,

The mark still remains.

A broken calabash can’t be mended.

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Olusola Butler

I write a lot, on everything and anything. I am that ordinary guy with a whole lot of good to offer. I love art, music and poetry.

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