Kite | by Mobolaji Olawale | African Poetry

As the slow winds approach,
I want to feel the fear of falling
Yet float, yet fly.
West to East, happy to sad –
To mad. Full of energy
Like the young boy
That holds on to the string,
Thrilled by my dance moves
On the surface of the moon.
But the cruel tempest
That rages from time to time
Threatens to steal me from his hands
And land me home,
In a pit, beside which
Two grumpy old women
Come to lay wreath
And one or two curse words.

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Post image by Christopher Sessums via Flickr.

About the Author:

Bolaji Olawale is a young medical doctor who writes from Lagos. He was featured in Afridiaspora‘s maiden anthology. He tweets at @theBolaji