FRIENDS~by Tukur Loba Ridwan

 

 

FRIENDS

•
Flocking together,
As birds of a feather. . .
.
Together, they have been
Since their breaths and brains,
Since their limbs and voices
Had begun to see the signs
Of dying days and rising nights.
.
Beyond six, perhaps ten –
More than few they were.
By the wind of life they glided;
Teasin’, tweakin’, chucklin’
On the race of brotherhood.
.
‘Blood’ was a nick for each.
They had the rest of their story
Told by the ellipses of time
Under a tale-tree of poe-tree.
.
But little did they know,
(And little would ever they)
That twenty years or less
Is enough for twenty tails. . .
.
Twenty has never been a time
Too little for these birds
To part their paths as a flock
(an adage, enough for their wings)
.
Until their talons began to prey on
Distinct fates over their times apart,
Owing to vicissitudes that changes
Interpret like winds – inevitable.
.
(White collars, brown collars,
Blue collars and other collars).
.
They have become gladiators
In their own armor of vision,
Wielding shields,swords,spears,
Sickles of strife and survival
.
(Man may maim man with this)
.
Guarding themselves from
Villainous shells and thrusts
(As the epic goes, while we
Watch words war on their behalf)
.
Friends, we call them.
Friends, they have been,
Friends…but not at the epilogue
Of a story in such fateful flux.
.
(Every friend grows to be
a protagonist of his own fate).
•
O’real © 2016.