Categories
love

Patience #NoahArk

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
    


Categories
love

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
Categories
love

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

Categories
fear

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
Categories
love

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.