"Touch your feelings. Cry. Show that emotion." I remember one who did that as the plot thickened. Speaking of truth from his purple toga: Purple dripped to the floor because of his fear. An emotion. It crawled off hanging flesh on a back. It trickled off the whip, splattered on stone. He feared losing his position in the hierarchy. He feared being labelled a tyrant. He feared being labelled too clement. Truth knocked at his door, offering Salvation. He chose his weakest emotion as guiding star, And led Barabbas to lonely babies and future orphans. Standing there, drowning in fear, fear, fear, Beset by crystal balls drawing his fate In paths to future outcomes in purple blood On the city walls, amidst the clamour, his Gumption Was vaulting over a bowl of ostrich water, washing Off the blood saying, "It wasn't me! Fac sicut vultis" Where was the Evangelist, to write the guilt, Shame and justified tears, as the eclipse shook The temple to its foundations, stole the light Off the world? To watch him watching Him on His Mission, Shedding the tears of repentant strong men, but Only, this time regretting "what if", "what if". (c) nyonglema
My son is 10
Only yesterday you put your fingers in my eyes As if to dot them, to make them more perfect for you. Today, you cross my Ts and with ink, dot my i's For our conversations have got richer with each day And as I recall cradling you to sleep with many tries For you would stare, looking for everything new In the living room, where you and I crawled like spies, Discovering every nook, every cranny, every day, I relish you now, on your way to start your own fires, On your way to be the spirit that brings out something new, On your way to reach mine, then peak at a higher spire On your way to change the world, your way. (c) nyonglema
Gethsemane
As mere mortal man, where do I go for strength? Reels of death give me the L in a reek, like Lazarus died of covid19 in a past story of a tryke Tumbling into Jerusalem in tears with 2 sisters. "Pull Heaven to your breast", I hear that often, And belief is Atlas lifting Earth, Jupiter plus That weird new 9th planet, because Pluto was Not enough pain to bear: something newer, heavier Is what I need for strength, till I stop to think. Whom did God call to for help when fear gripped The roommate of flesh? How was the switch flipped? "Not Mine but Your will be done" Nothing heavier. (c) nyonglema
Vestigial
What got you here, won't get you there. -Marshall Goldsmith ------------------- Curls of hair tumbling down my chest, Falling from my neck, The black on my face Say I'm ready for battles to mate. Each strand whispers to the other: "I'll protect you from the strikes", As they expect a foe, similar to me, To punch, bite and scratch. Protect the vitals: A cushion for blows to the head, Where the control tower plans the win strategy; Another for blows to the chest, Where energy is supplied to the weaponised sinews; Another for blows to the groin, Where the prize of all this mayhem sits safely. The times have changed, though, and such fights, Are not the path to procreation. Neither are our socialist governments A path to independence. Protecting us From blows from foes, similar to us, They once curled, and some were cut out. They took the blows, that we may be Free. But, the times have changed and such fights Are not the path to civilisation. They seek to control the head, They seek to constrict the chest They seek to conscript the groin. They give the blows, that we may be Free to do their chores. In truth, the times have changed, And even if the policies look great It's time to go bald. (c) nyonglema
Here Lie Lies
Here lies Lie, who killed no woman nor baby: No fire was started, no life was lost lately The char was made up Not even one stray cop Was near Ngarbuh on Valentine's day 2020. (c) nyonglema
I chose you #confined
I chose you over surfing waves in the middle of there. Here I stare into your eyes, like the paint smiling At this magical moment. Lavender hovers between us Like a connection heart to heart. I'm hung on your Words. Now I hold you, as the bars stay shut, the bars Shudder at RNA code, and the restaurants cower. All the doors are shut, so I shut our door and hold you. I chose you. You chose me. (c) nyonglema
Arise #HappyEaster
Happy Easter to all my readers. We celebrate the greatest miracle of our existence, a symbol of hope as we witness one of the greatest tragedies of our generation. Pick up your heart, somebody needs it now, and also tomorrow...hope never dies. Rise from the squalor of the promise of death. Your wrongs hold you down like ladders fallen To the ground, broken, crying. The stone off your back rolls to the ground; Your shoulder speaks out-of-breath to your brain, And mixed with stress, the message is amplified. Let it roll to the ground, this is a new day. "Mother, behold, I make all things new". Mother torn trying to grip the wind on its Way to the mountains. How do you hold the wind? How do you hold fear? How much pain can one mortal vessel hold In drips of blood on stone, and gasps for Air on wood standing in stone? All things are new. Behold, the rainbow Shoots an arrow of renewal past the sunlit Perfumed clouds. It's all so beautiful that I forget the nails, the thorns. The rungs of This ladder lead to a new height. Rise from the parlor, and celebrate far away From family and friends. The electrons will Bring your elation all the way: It's resurrection time. Do this today; tomorrow we'll all be back to our Day to day. (c) nyonglema
Counting
They were not perfect squares, you know, those hard plastic Sticks of myriad colours that between my teeth like grit Sent weird signals of unevenness to my infant brain. If you take one green, then blue, red, then green again, Addition turns into 4 unicorns you can right with an equal sign. They aren't perfectly sinusoidal, those hard to bear curves On my screen, with lab coat, glasses, and eagerness to serve Me the death toll...like I should pay for a Wuhan virus. I love when up it goes, peaks, and down comes the sinus Like sunset announcing a new dawn or some equal sign. Some say stop counting the dead, for dread needs a father. So as I toss and turn, afraid the virus gets anymore fodder, I count my blessings, like the song taught me and my Siblings to do when you'd rather shiver, melt and die. Naming the inanimate heals they said, you'll be fine. So I'm counting oxygen molecules for free floating around, I'm counting a bed shared, the hugs and smiles, sound From little children goofing around, arguing about nothing. I'm counting parents, siblings, forgetting squabbles frothing, For life's a dainty petal dancing on sun-bathed silver lines Of air, scintillating in a million diamonds of green leaves Whistling a new tune of spring, dancing with the puffs above. The birds flap their garments of rainbow gliding on sheaves Out of the sky to brighten a smile I bear like finding love In powder and smoke. Darkness is where these blessings don't shine. (c) nyonglema
Coal #hope
Do not be discouraged. Don't lose your heart as everything seems to fall apart. A chick will emerge from the shell; always does. What do you see when the rough fire eats at wood, Softly sintering what was splintered? It's weird that pain brings togetherness Where handshakes were fake, and escape Was the constant. Now we crave to touch, We crave so much as the mask falls off To reveal the despair on the decaying Banana on the medic's lips. Last touch Gone. What I see is pain, but not like Cain's on Abel. I see the pain of a pierced side, or thorns Crowning the start of a battle for souls. I see the pressure of nails dodging wrist veins, But getting some, missing the bone, hanging on. I see years of preparation, patiently waiting For that moment: the filth of coal felt like Victory to the Virus smiling. The crown of the Start of the battle, rattled to the ground. Pressure, battle, the victor won without a sound. I see Sunday morning, Peter's out of breath Chasing John, chasing Mary earlier in the morn. I see a cloth there, bare, where coal had dared To start tears down my cheeks with biers. See, The wood destroyed slowly became the coal of pain, but What I see is not coal on worldometer's charts; I see diamonds form, Love's pressure on the Sacred Heart. (c) nyonglema
Face #covid19
Itches are like flies, carrying pestilence From ranch to branch, restlessly destructive. Where do they come from? Nobody nose! The ice of their land went dark when sunlight Left them nomads on the human body. My fingers have a fancy for them, my hands Dart to dance to their fickle rhythm. Van Gogh possesses the evil paint, and my fingers Like dry brush upon easel, screech out The Scream: Nobody ears it, nobody ceases. In that moment Death plots with the 19th crown to walk into me. My lungs want to heave But my face takes its leave. (c) nyonglema
waghni 