The Wailer
A poem
A frost of cares in the folds of may,
Time only reminds me that I’ll one day turn to clay,
Vain hope of gain and life only fled —
In dance between seasons and days that bled..
I heard spring was here but it has not sprung
For the lilies and roses that adorn my dreams,
Streams of seams and I found death in my womb,
Eyes in my shell and beginning in my tomb.
Harbingers of finality; contraptions of reality —
And seismic calmness arrested my frailty,
Time will one day stop me from chasing setting suns
But the world will hear my stories before the final bridge burns.
notes: There is an African proverb that says that a little rain each day will fill the rivers to overflowing, a reminder that it is often better to take it a day at a time, little by little because in that way, we’re able to immerse ourselves in the process and rekindle our hearts as we move along in different aspects of our lives. My Grand-mum would always say ‘patience Praise, patience…’ nudging me to take care of myself too and be patient with life, I’m not good at it but it’s always helped to remember it when the panic sets in.
These thoughts inspired this piece. I’m ever grateful to the curators of this amazing pub for the opportunity to share my pieces and I hope everyone’s having a lovely weekend. Thank you for reading 🙌🏾🤍