After Samuel Adeyemi’s “Correspondence to Self”

 

O! Bloody coward.
you made yourself
a tenant in my precious heart,
floating, like one in a pool.
i can feel your grievous hands
in my heart, a garden of beaut & tranquil.

you sit comfy
like a king, giving orders
to every part of my body.
through my lungs, you breathe, you sleep,
in my garden of tranquil, indifferent,
like a sadist, finding solace in my anguish.

i don’t struggle to find joy,
joy finds its path to me
but you, son of the dark,
sail, like a ship from obscurity,
to find an abode in my heart.

you turned my heart
to a hideous garden,
my eyes to a gushing stream.

O! Bloody grief.
son of the dark,
weed in my garden,
don’t you know
that you’re sitting
on a forbidden oasis?

it’s a beautiful thing to feel pain
in order to see you in a different way,
& surmount any throe in life.

like a basket never holds water, my heart
will never hold you.
& no pain will have a bed, in my heart.

 

 

Photo by Alvin Balemesa on Unsplash