a poem…
We waded through history with whistles and humming
that rose from the downpour of love.
We watched morning from our horizon cloth
itself with the winds that carried away our names each day.
Photo by Klemen Vrankar on Unsplash
Only some time ago that resembles a yesterday in my mind,
we followed the fumbling feet of crows as they
perched on the branches of the young Odums and the wawas.
Our catapults were as innocent as our feet,
and we meandered through the newly-made farms
that blinked in glory as the early days of a peculiar grace.
A dead Dandelion (Photo by Ýlona María Rybka on Unsplash)
Days were what we didn’t count.
We dwelt in our mothers’ bosoms, and at night when
demons surveyed our homelands, we were
the only eyes that met the minds between Change and Rebel.
We laid down, sleep-deprived, waiting for a future
that woefully smiled at our innocent, endearing minds.
Photo by Wadi Lissa on Unsplash
We were friends — one of yesterday and the other of today.
I remember our teeth that knew no fluorides
and our hands that knew no sin besides killing
the innocent but wicked birds that ate my
father’s corn farm away. And, until time pounced on us,
we were those that always settled with the innocent and free.
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