Posted by: Ron DuBour | December 20, 2016

MIRROR~by Tukur Loba Ridwan




this mirror also has eyes,
so i looked through…
every past, a dust
adorning the surface;
wearing dusts of stories on my cute little fingers
as i drew on, erasing these tears
you can fetch from the eyes
in pails of empathy…
i am a child that playfully cleans
the filth off this glass to renew my view
of a world that grows on my skins,
digging my pores for more strands
of maturity:
from jaws to places
the world is blind to in the daylight,
and that’s the sacredness of the pubis.
i cleanse these hands in a redeeming ablution‎;
a call to prayer…
then sink sprinkles of water into the holes
of my head for rays of fortune;
a winning race against time,
then my enti‎re limbs,
that i shall not
stray these legs in sheer ignorance
nor stretch these hands into places
of misfortune…
s h a t t e r e d, be this wide lens
should my breath lose this war
against the dusts of my past
like the sound of a broken pitcher
– a calamity echoing the taboo of a raped
virgin. sacrilege!
i will cleanse this glass too
for a better view…
i shall cleanse this mirror.‎

O’real © 2016.‎

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