Posted By Afro-Awesome Guest contributor
On Mar 6, 2017
By Ludo Chalashika
An hour past the sunrise and I decided, mind woke, to freeze time,
Eyes still shut and a whisper says,
“Do you want to live today?”
Thirty minutes past the hour and poetry wanted to whisper me out of bed, again.
I whine, “last night you interrupted my sleep”, again.
“Write, write, write” she insisted.
Today, like yesterday, you beg my attention,
And I chase you down a narrow, long-ended corridor,
A niveous glare leading me, cheek against walls, past locked doors.
“Write, write, write…”
I hear you between breaths,
A moment before the bird’s song and, too, when darkness begins to mourn light’s final breath.
“Show them how fear won’t let you love,
Tell them what you fear to admit to yourself,
Offer yourself as sacrificial body, (and one day you may write of this martyrdom).”
“Let them skin you, and carve you, and let your innards hang out.
How tender is your flesh?”
“Are you scared?” she whispered,
“Will you let your fears bury you,” she hissed,
“Bullshit,” she chuckled,
And I collapsed into myself.
Once defeated by her, words began to spew out,
It felt like the moment I inhaled the scent of rain at the midday hour, when earth found herself thirst-free.
There she was, piecing my wings, feather by feather,
Even with these dirty wings, I fly.
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