Bald,
Her glory walks naked
Black,
Her mourning is decorated
Bowl,
Can't hold her ocean of tears,
Silence,
She sleeps with the dead.

In Ashes,
Her face is covered
She stands
In the court of the dead
Judged by
tradition of fathers
The Jury,
A Herd of kinsmen

The corpse,
Circled by dog's blood.
The cat,
To see in the underworld,
The eagle,
Flies into the horizon,
The parrot,
The Mouthpiece of the dead.

Must she drink from this cup?
The concoction of his corpse?
Must she sleep with the dead?
To prove her innocence?

Love it!
You took me on a ride. I didn't know the destination till the end of the poem.

That horrible custom needs to be abolished. I heard its still being practised in some parts of the country. Nice poem btw.

Oh my! This is lovely! Awesome! Keep writing. You guys keep encouraging me.

Thanks guys