a song to the grave
Adookorn Auaduma@auadumaadookorn150359
5 days ago
listen, listen to a voice full of grief;
wandering birds in drowsy sky
are lives drown in remorse of self guilt -
how we despise and delete our lives
wounded bat on lone reed
we have waited, waited for healing
to come till our patience, like summer
leaf withered off
our sin are weighed in the balance
our errors are compose in hyperbole
our righteousness, smoulder in the storm
however; we seek redress, how long
are we to wait - till our ephemeral life
expire staring the sun in the face
with the courage of moribund snail
foaming to douse fire as we die daily
in the web of bandit and herdsmen, like
Funke, raped and beheaded in her farm -
our chaffy life embrace thousands death
in the snare of shepherds mask
as bandit and terrorist
we are the spectacle of theatrical cruelty;
who die to elicit their joy, limp under
the burden of catastrophic inflation
as bandits are endorsed on pay roll
victims of conceived fear and distrust
eat from the garbage, drag bones
with dog and roll our funny life to the grave
will emotion entice God to act?
will our tears evoke his empathy?
why are the accurst among the blessed?
why not return us on the day of conception
that our grave do not exist
but now we sing songs of death
barefooted to the grave
nothing to shod our feet, no one
to dig our grave; we die tongue-gush
bask angry sun, bathe unconscious downpour
our lifeless smile sculpt legacy of emptiness
- lives which names are engrave with watermark;
our grave suffers no labour, no depth
as we die to elicit their joy; we die reluctant!
