Posted by: Ron DuBour | August 13, 2016

silence III~by Ayoola Goodness Olanrewaju


 

 

silence III

if i am a poet tonight
i will dream and find men with bleeding thumbs
running into the past to buy winds and fires
for a dying ember…

i will dream and find women and premature dreams
sung into silence and still singing under a cold sun
i will dream and find you
i will climb into your ears and whine long like a starved mosquito
and become
s i l e n c e…

tell me
is there hope for silence?

this is change…

a father is not returning from his daily search
and dawn is another haunting ghost
his neck dances in a loop withered by hope
they say he finds a green way to heaven on a tree
in silence…

this is how we wait for africa at the end of a night
where darkness plays with the shard
a tongue of fire and palm oil
where silence lives and is loud
we call mama. mama. mama
but silence is loud and laughing
you will hear silence calling you back
you will hear him jump into your heart
you will hear him say
mama is not coming home tonight
she is gone
(it is true mama is gone)
then silence…

you stand in front of a mirror to look at the future
but it is not going to be there today; it is running away
and you are left with your face and silence
you find how old you have become and yet not bold
your mother will call you now and cry within her prayers
and your father will ask when you will marry and leave his house
and become a man
your friend will call you and tell you and tell you and tell you
curse poetry and die
and you become silence…

if i am a poet tonight
i will dream and find men with bleeding thumbs
running into the past to buy winds and fires
for a dying ember…

i will dream and find women and premature dreams
sung into silence and still singing under a cold sun
i will dream and find you
i will climb into your ears and whine long like a starved mosquito
and become
s i l e n c e…

tell me
is there hope for silence?

this change is strange…

Ayoola Goodness ©2016


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