I Write For Aisha
I Write For Aisha
Aisha Aisha,
Messenger of men and gods,
The gossip of the village,
Her tongue is her bonding chain,
A lure,
A bait for secrets dark and open,
She knows everyone by name,
From the head elder to the one day old son of his servant,
She knows fathers of the fatherless kids,
She knows who did this, she knows who did that.
She is a messenger,
Though she isn't sent,
She does herself,
Tell her about someone,
All she needs is a meal,
To fuel her feet,
Some water,
To clear her voice,
And she'll be on her way,
To say you said this,
Trust me,
She'll bring feedback too.
So yesterday we found her,
This Aisha,
By the roadside,
Her lips sealed,
Literally,
A string through her lips
She had put up a fight we see,
Her body was a show of scratches and bruises,
She must have been carrying something big,
Something valuable,
Our guess?
News,
She knew about something someone didn't want known,
What would it be?
They say,
You never miss the waters till the well runs dry,
Here was our well,
Dry and the seal sealed,
Our local CNN,
With her around we didn't subscribe for useless news,
We didn't pay to advertise our farm products,
We could spread the word in the comforts of our home,
My question remains,
Who killed Aisha?
Does this poem Deserve a thumbs up?
Yes
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