Fmata Faranah

The eagles flew from the glen
Crying: pieces of eight, pieces of eight
no more scars, no more scars,
The Apyamwene called the Lubuga as she ripped the bark
of the omutuba tree,
Wanjiku looked up from her gikua tubers
Look, look, the sun is setting over her vines

The eagles now wore night vision glasses and winged
their way to
Wanjiku's garden,
Wings lopsided in assymetrical pattern
as the precision cameras locked on their more