luminary

They say the world began as a dark hush,
a warm, moon-blue hush where nothing cast a shadow because nothing dared to shine.

In that hush, a single seed drifted on the evening wind.
It was smaller than a millet grain, yet bright enough to sting a falcon’s eye.
The Elders called it Nkọwa, the Question.

Nkọwa fell into a village that had never known morning.
Fires there were coaxed but never blazed; children were born but never named,
for names, the elders believed, should be spoken in daylight so spirits may hear.