Flap away and as your wings survey
The drying death below, tell me:
What do you see?
Do the bloated barks of leafless trees,
Brown in death, and laden with grief
Seem anew to breathe?
Do the fungi grow in coloured sheathes
On trees that felled by water swam before,
But now rest ashore?
Oh Raven, Raven, only water above all else
You saw, all around you one ocean swells?
Flap away and as your wings survey
The drying death we know, search around,
For dry ground.
Do the torrents that tossed us far and wide
Now slow and ebb as the tide begins to drop
Beneath mountain tops?
Do the oceans now divide like post-storm clouds
Up above, and sip back behind the rocks
That held them locked?
Oh Dove, dear Dove, only water above all else
You saw, all around you one ocean swells?
Well flap away and once again survey
The drying death that haunts us night and day
And find a way.
Oh, you found an olive start to live again,
As the sun bedazzled each leaf in emeralds
Set in gold walls?
Oh, you found strands of green to build a nest
To start anew nature's run which took a break
For 40 days!?
Oh Dove, oh Dove, if only again the emerald shone through day
Once again to say the fear has been whisked away with pain
And humans can carry on life in a new akin to the old way
Out of the nest, to neighbours to love and break bread again
(c) nyonglema
Tag Archives: covid19
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
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
Corona
And to crown it all we're all going to die! Or not. Despair is the flare from the barrel Next to the six-foot deep hole holding my stare: I can't climb out of CNN reporting in quarrel After quarrel that the air is filled with ire Not fire. They crawl up hands, to faces And dig into alveoli where life lies waiting To exhale through foetid mucus, a James Whale scare As the doctors bounce of beds defibrillating In vain or with success, but all in phases. No I chose hope. New phrases like social And distance breathe oxygen into more men Than the global promise of living without care! Oxymoron is the new hope for this ill omen! Greet-distance, Meet-noone, Work-home, travel-local. Hands-clean, touch-no face, calm-panic. But how not to panic in the face of a pandemic? The old, and vulnerable are main victim to evil's fair, But all carry the burden even in transparent tunic Taking some under for failing their civic duty. (c) nyonglema Stay safe. We can beat this. Wash hands, follow the hygiene and other instructions. By minimising the spread, we make more healthcare available to the more vulnerable. Don't panic, God's got us, and we got this.
waghni 