The Day Battled Birth

The day battled birth
And the night camped by the shore.
A devil dust swirl and an enduring wind
Creased the wings of the birds sailing in the dim light.

A drowsy lout seek strength in sticks and
Blow the country aflame to keep himself awake.

Like fish, he interlaced
Young men into long chains
And locked them in the jaws
Of a deaf shipping container and watched their souls flirt with death
As their breath hold it last ceremony before,

God whose eyes still stitches
For the visitors whose timing,
He is unwilling to reject.

To ourselves we says,
At least they have not died by the gun
Or while they dream of a long life
Death dreams of them too.

Terror coughed, awakening grieves in their sleep
And I wear a helmet on my heart,
So that death may not find me heartless.
My birth place, look at me with offense for the hunting farm
I have let it become.

The sun slipped through the cracks of the wet cloud
And an empty gaze holds the roof upon the still masses.

Pool of My Blood

From the depths of the woods, gun fired and I was not alert,
Blowing me into bits and feeling cold in ruin.

There I lay, in the dying of my life,
Drowning in the pool of my blood, shattered in pieces,
My spirit trapped inside of me screamed for an escape.

In the height of despair, mother tossed her head in the air
Questioning how the world became a crime scene dominated by few,
Offering no space for new

There in the pool of my blood
I just watched her cry.
I couldn’t make hint to console her or wipe tear off her face

At a distance,
Father stamped his boot heavily on ground in salute
Yet shivering in sorrows

Father! I did not want to become past so soon but that’s the fate now
I know, death is a cruel test to your faith but you—
Must not be trapped in revenge seeking or settle in hatred

When the current erupts and the bloody wave crushed red,
Do not bother to pull me out; I am at rest,
Just wave me goodbye and let the water carry me to the far side of the Nile.

Worry not of fish to feed on my flesh
And with my killer, don’t grow hush,
They are spiritually weak and drove their strength from fear.

Oh beloved, defuse your rage
Tell my son not of the news of my death
And to yourself, keep him near—he will make a good man for my place.

Relay my love for him and tell him that he should not
Be consumed by my absence.

I will be here in time of your need
Just consult with me, prayer.

There Was a Knight

When he was knighted
His souls fed on bile.
The silver light words crashed like an ocean’s waves.
His tongue danced, blending smoke
With rain clouds.
And with irritating eyes.
The sun watched with laboured sight.

When he was knighted,
The darkness was whole
And the moon lost, guard of the night.