Inside, I stumble,
my drunken soul,
threatens to wither
Breathless,
my eyes I close,
life’s puzzles I dither
On a singing clock,
blankly,
I plant my naked stare
Its shouting voice
gives my closed ears
a sweet scare
Ooh, how rocky
is my Rockies tour
No rock souvenir to show!
If everything takes time,
why mine
forever slow?
On a crying bed,
I whisper,
shouting to my sinking self
My thoughts,
tuneless
as a musician’s forgotten clef
On a calendar,
my eyes meander,
on a number, they rest
For the ordained,
time is ripe,
for harvest, at its best
Sighs and yawns I drink,
my soul,
feeding on wonder
Questioning why
the waiting is weighty
and longer
Guessing,
in vain,
where life burried my hoard
Blaming dark angels
whose mercy-ships
I'm too sick to board
Then on my side,
I turn,
Imploring my eyes to smile
My hands,
I willingly stretch,
and behold…I find a Holy Book!
At peace I feel, on my chest, I hold...
my Bible,
my Rosary,
my Quran,
my Misbaha,
my Sutra,
my Mala
Now I know,
I’ve to resurrect,
Leave the wilderness grave,
Break the chain,
Be reborn,
Be bold!
Copyright © Meshack Sewe
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