WE ARE

By -
We are
What we think we are
What we know
What we do
We are all of the above
We are gods
Yet, we are not God.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Bent Backs of our Fathers

By -
Image
Proud warriors in ancestral savannahs...is this your back that is bent.  ~David Diop Sweat shed on ancestral savannahs Blood from our grandfathers' labours The bent backs of our fathers The pains of the proud warriors And the songs of our grandmothers Have all gone to ciphers We are history’s refrain, a  tragic chorus of cycles This is not a disease, yet Our backs are bent like those before us This time from the toils we choose Our ancestral warriors in awe Watch us writhe in new pains Only this time not on the plains But in the cold gloomy northern winters Where we forget the songs  of our grandmothers  Who will save us now that we have gone too far Beyond the reach of our mother's voice and The long warm fingers of the sun.
Read more

Out of the Woods came a Score of Four-Year-Olds

By -
Image
It was a sunless winter noon I sat on a stump by the woods' gate Hoping the sun will shine through the dreary clouds, Then, out of the woods, came a score of four-year-olds Little boys and girls, in leather boots At first, I had my eyes fixed on the sky Still waiting for a glimmer But then the brightness of twenty pairs of shiny eyes Were about to light up my ennui  One of them, a gentleman, winked His boots were shinning and black He almost does not belong in the crowd His coat was fancy and neat As the others were soiled and wrinkled He was followed by a girl who looked guilty In muddy boots, coat and obliqued eyes—a recipe for a future politician Next were a couple, a boy and a girl who held hands And chatted endlessly without a care  Dirty as charged and looking like soon-to-be famous YouTubers They walked past me in no hurry or pattern I took a long ponderous look at each and all And can tell you that among them were the future priests  And sinners, poets and scienti...
Read more

WHY THE SUN SMILES

By -
Image
Every morning, just before the sun breaks      the dawn into day with her golden fingers She smiles, she smiles, but no one knows why It's all beautiful, the sun, her smiles, the morning brightness And the glitter of flowers that captivates our wits all afternoon And then, in the evening, the sun sets and In the fading glory of her once golden fingers She takes with her into the high heavens Another day of our existence and A little tiny part of us that can never be reclaimed Returning us to the universe in bits and Drawing us all closer to our sure end. The sun's job done, she returns in the morning To once again smile that smile.
Read more