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The Weight of Dark Shades in White Hues
i see the devouring spirits circle my joy.
i watch them brood over my calm.
daily, they sit on my sofa, prodding the
darkness that looms behind my ears.
i see the poltergeists lay their mats at my door.
i watch them tighten the noose that hangs from the rafter.
they dance passionately on my skin, draining the melanin essence of my soul.
but i see the little angels, lifting the sigh of weariness off my shoulders.
i watch them line up my curtains, allowing light to contend with darkness.
outside the open windows, I hear a cacophony of sounds splattered—
the children laughing & mothers sorting through the day’s ruins.
my eyes glide sluggishly over the somber sunsets,
gazing through the worn-out spectacles of life’s ambiance.
my quivering limbs pulse with ardent hope,
unraveling my spirit like a crocus in the haze of dawn.
Uneven Bridges
In this place, pelting rains seep through our mundane animation.
We turn and topple over broken footsteps and buried names.
The barren tree hangs confident, its tendrils climbing
Towards the skies of distant memories.
The graveyard of our fathers’ desire emancipation from the
Constricting promises of the strange man’s salvation.
Between the hills and the deep, the thirsty whales sail to the land.
In search of the sepulchers we built and the sculptures we worshipped.
To and fro we gather,
Awaiting the redemption of Goliath’s history.
Like glimmers, buried shadows reappear,
Plowing through our harvest floors.
The taste of abundance wets our lips,
Cleansing our teeth of salty betrayal.
We fetch the rains from the sky,
Washing away the foreigners’ distorted truth about us.
She
she walks through the tempestuous streets,
where the rains pelt against her supple skin
like mystic divination against a sacred stone.
i see her enthralling body swaying to the sound
of this raucous damnation.
with every feeble step,
her supple waist sashays to this chaos.
i see her eyes dance across every face,
weaving through the swirling crowd with soothing grace.
radiance leaves trails of golden hues on her skin,
like sunflowers dancing effortlessly in citrine sunsets.
her hands gather up her hair, adorning it with purple threads.
the world salivates, reaching for her beauty,
but her light is not for tasting.
She invades their whims,
melting the hardened pebbles on their tongues.
perfection holds no place with them—
for she does not ask to be seen.
But her grace and beauty exudes reflect in their eyes.
