Posted by: Ron DuBour | December 1, 2016

journeys in a pen V~by Ayoola Goodness Olanrewaju


 

 

journeys in a pen V

you will grow up
when you walk the street on your skin
and find men celebrate their failures
squeeze nights into a dawn obsessed with laughter
a pause—
and tears and laughter again
how they dance until their legs thin into the body of a kid
and become whole—
how they pick themselves from fragments into dry clouds
and become rains
fine poetry and then rainbow for the eyes that love
how they find every reason to be here
for then and now
for was and is
for never and forever—
you will bolt into the mist and draw your exit
you will find your mama and hug her and shed all your tears
the blue the black and red
you will burn your burns and not feel the fire
you will pick again in a black and white photograph—when you were ten
adorable—
you will cry all and sing and all will be well
you will sneak into your skin again and hear the men say
‘until we fall
we do not know our wings
we crash for we never taught them how to fly’

a child weaves a morning into his mourning
he picks the dark clouds and gives them a sun name
he holds out to life unafraid in the face of death
his mother taught him how to speak the language of life—
but we murder our mother into guilt
for the life we took from her body
we are ungrateful—
to begin each day hallowed in the name of living
we trade with cheap death to write stories for the sympathy of strangers
we run into neigbours with praises of elixirs
and yet cleft for epitaphs for our wish to buy quick caskets
we quickly forget how we hurt lives when we fight with life—
but next time you want to play with death
run far and just die
and let us rest
we are hurt enough to realize you are gone
just die —
and let us rest—ingrate!

it is very cold and
december is new on the street
i shall find new reasons to dye into sweet music of red and a green road
and spread for blistered soles of yellow men
this is a good way to die!

i shall dye thousand times and more
i shall sit at a boy without a left eye
and wonder how he hold his rght to life amidst the racism on his face
i shall sit at a lame girl
and wonder how she walk bold through each day touching life
i shall give ears to others in pains and heal
and be thankful for life—
each day a chance to begin to live and give back to life
i shall not miss the rain for soothing memories
and bask in the gold of the sun and find laughter from faithful friends
and live—

life will always be life and nothing is new
i am sorry again for my city…

you will cry all and sing and all will be well
you will sneak into your skin again and hear the men say
‘until we fall
we do not know our wings
we crash for we never taught them how to fly’

this journey has just begun!

Ayoola Goodness ©2016


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