September 18, 2017

 

I Wish They Understand Why We Cry

 
 
 

I WISH THEY UNDERSTAND WHY WE CRY

It's a cold hell in here,
with this haunting gas flaring,
Full of surprising thorns:
Sizzling and killing the world in my palms --
and choking vegetations --
In aqua ebb and flow,
Gasping moody muddy staleness.

Have you seen the children lately,
With oil cursed kwashiorkor jespers,
Tiny sickly legs like grasshopper's,
Pregnant eyes in fast retreat,
Into fleshless sockets of skeletal skulls:
They are the haunted maps of our creeks.

The nights are begging to see daybreak,
And daylight is in haste to hug bed-time song.

Serenity and serendipity:
Two flightless flock of a feather,
Scampered frightfully into confines of mirage,
Always sighted but never manifesting.

And it is a cold hell in here.






Article © Eddie Awusi. All rights reserved.
Published on 2017-07-10
Image(s) are public domain.


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In the same series:

I Wish They Understand Why We Cry

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