It was a dream
Like I had dined with Queen Elizabeth III
Exploring the antiquity of
Antarctica
The ice sheets were nothing more than surface
I landed on mountains
Crashed on rocks

My voice echoes the plurality of the
Fight I fought
The tones I made
The will I wrote
Enduring the moment like
GAZA

Immersed in multilayers of societal perceptions
My community, my home, my Rome
My root now a route
To sprout

All the years I was a surrogate of my clan
A lineage of destitution
I swear it was all void
Which awaits a
Messiah
Daily I cleanse my bowel
Tide to my history
The value of my people
My color or theirs
Blood nor water

Not a matter of choice
They identified with the Savior perceived
In our realm
Things happen
A shedding of pounds of flesh
Wretched in the pool of our own blood
Our bones cracked
Womb bled an angst of every she

The radicalism in the moist of our voices
This time Mandela may applaud
Our tenacity as Angelou danced resilience
She knew she could be the first
Obama was a testimony
Grounded in self confidence

Her feet tremble as she wars through the walls
Her core screams mystically
An expression of humanity
Connected to mother earth

Hopeful, one day
Cuba will embrace like in the past
And taste the mug which presents peace
Like he shared with me

Looking through his teary eyes
I feel his pains through the news
A once cheering abode
Now dashed in hopelessness
He told me how he had toasted mugs of Cuban coffee
And cracked nuts of Gaza

The moonlight gatherings which hold no fear
But love and collectivism
From having to dine at night with both commoners and elite
Feelings of equality
NATO made a fool of us

He was just a bloody inquisitive scholar
Retired to his county home and jungle street
6 Carr Road
Daily cooling his tongue with sticks of cigar
Sacredly placed his assets on rows and columns of shelves
Across the rooms

Maybe a ghost I had said a million times
Noiselessly lifting the soles of his feet
The chirps of the birds
The best of life he has was Bola
A rib he had lost
But she left behind a character
Which is golden

With him each joke is rooted in books
As I reminisce
The rituals in his aura
I understood more of his orature
In a dilemma if I should pen this or skip!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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