Hello all. I hope you’ve been well.
I’m sorry I didn’t post last Saturday. I took a small (needed) break, but here are three poems. I hope they make up for the lag.
P.s: a narrative may be available by next week (just in case it is needed).
GIVE RASHIDA A MIRACLE
It started with a cough
Deep and racking-
Horrid sounding thing.
Stayed on for a few
In fun and feed.
Rashida tell me, what is going on?
A shrug and confused eyes said it all.
Was next on the scene.
No soothing was found
To be beyond fleeting.
Discomfort grew fierce,
The silence grew less-
Heartache would dance
As pain played background.
Rashida greetings, how is it now?
A sigh linked fingers with a worried frown.
Symptom borne extrapolations;
Rebellious cells breed impassive systems.
Assurances abound –
“The day of mourning soon dawns
So stop –
Hope is too fragile for you to rest on.
Anticipate early…bear the foreknowing,
Many a careless error
Brings nightmares to tangibility.”
Rashida listen, try to stay calm…
But it is hard when sight gives cause for alarm.
Torn lips release hoarse shrieks,
Strength exits every opening;
Sight struggles futilely to be
Through blue-white films and swelling.
There’ll be no need
For sticks and stones
As the sight of those bones
Could leave any one broken.
Rashida stop. Please don’t cry.
Yet no smile can erase the fear in mind.
Cuddle and rock,
Hold a breath.
Coo soft words-
Faith filled requests.
Ignore the tongue clicks, sighs and
The glaring spectacle.
Apparent needs make asking simple:
Give Rashida a miracle.
Copyright, Kwiksie. 2017.
Let it never be said that I didn’t try
My God, let it never be said that I didn’t try.
I will hold back the tears.
I will put on a fake smile.
I will listen and I will nod,
And I will watch as they come
And as they go by.
But let it never be said that I didn’t try.
I will look to you and I will see the possibility.
I will refuse my eyes witness of what my mind tells me;
I will refuse,
If not I will cry.
But let it not be said that I didn’t try.
I will look up for help I’ve never known to be hesitant.
I will look down to my feet
Buried in the sand like my heart.
I will look around at people who couldn’t care less;
Whose lives are busy,
Who look at me unseeingly.
Maybe I will find one
Who suffers as I.
Maybe there’ll be someone
To pick the denial in every ‘I’m fine.’
But even if I never find such a person
And this thorn of memory
Never leaves my side
In hope will I yet abide
So it must never ever be said;
“She didn’t try.”
Copyright, Kwiksie. 2017
I imagined what he would be like as a teenager
But before that,
I imagined him as a grown man.
Those intense eyes would melt many hearts-
-Just as they melted his mother’s.
Those slender fingers
Would hold firmly to principles,
That smile would lift
The weariest of souls
And that demanding tone
Would overwhelm the prattle of fools.
So beautiful and small,
In my eyes you were already grown.
Full of wisdom,
Strong and tall.
Our little one…
You cried so very much,
I thought you a little rascal;
He’d do anything to get mama’s attention!
She wanted to spoil you,
Or maybe she didn’t want to…
You’d always get what you wanted.
Well, whenever I couldn’t help it.
The one you considered fearful
Until you spotted the love
Beneath my stern looks.
With the perfect nose
And dimples that ran way deep;
A precious gift anyone would love
Did you enjoy your stay at all?
Well the new place is better
Sometimes it’s nice to hold cold hands
Because your first thought is to share warmth,
And cuddling a lifeless form
Reminds you just how much
The little moments are worth.
Many would rather have everyone remain
But it is deeply unfair
To erase every smile they once led to your face
Just because they went away.
So although we may weep
And although we will miss,
We must be careful to hold the memory of their laugh
Even as we reminisce.
My heart will then remember
To be grateful
That without ever asking,
I got to meet
So many tones
To one beautiful.
Our little one…
I know you’ll love your new home
And I’ll bet
You don’t cry so much anymore.
Copyright, Kwiksie. 2017
#ForBabangida (Rashida’s Son)