…in this old house…

Sifting through instances of weakness…I know now that…/that perfect time will never come…/in this search for that sun-kissed season…/for one more reason…/I reach right now for my life…/at the tip of the steps of this old house…/I discover papa’s old clock in aged attic awning.../mocking frozen fingers of father time whisper to me to…wait no longer for dream stranger…/to pray even stronger for my own heart to become my savior…/to walk on pea green river…/with rock knowledge that my faith in my uncertain foothold will bring me to…wide open spaces of…discovery…/golden tributary of…branches leading to life of golden possibility…/and in these denim tight pockets of time/when in my head I celebrate my future victories…/I applaud when my fingers of time spring to song again…/I crochet bigger footprints on the tapestry of my life.

Birthright

Born of one Father.../we are…cornerstones of house built on a Rock…/spirits nurtured by…hand of Great Supplier…/we …bend boundaries…/asserting standards that order us to…kneel to a Truth that is high above all that…we ever knew…/before now…in that time…when…/birth into this world gave us up to…/foul pageantry…to…obscene unnecessary sacrifice…to…/gods that brought us only death…/but we arose with breastplate of righteous action…/and we…rode with our brothers into battle for…/our youth…/our light…/that beacon that ignites pathways leading to Heaven…/and in this our heaven sent victory../we now feast at roundtable meeting…/knights of a Holy Order…/blue blood sons of the King…/daughters of a Holy Throne…/come…bring your requests to this our Patriarch of an awesome Paradise…/ remember… that we are people of Faith…/a knowledge that urges us to unshakable belief in our life…our truth….our inheritance…/remember …that we are Children of God.

A Watchman for Isreal

...chocking on…smoky remnants of fiery dream…/You…kiss me awake…reminding me that You are with...me…/in…soul-less wanderings through…quagmire of desperate desire…/in…thoughtless foray inside this life…this…mocking satire/…those places in the world that…You seek daily to…shadow me from…/in…seamless senseless seeming solution to these struggles of myrrh../You…You do not leave me there…/You…confound me with your bounty…/You...transform me daily with Your…unfailing benefaction…/my…surly actions are...but a pinch on Your cheek…/You…make my knees weak…/and I…buckle before You with…no word…no sword…no thought…/I have only heart in hand…I have…only my hands…/I…have….


….I will die Beloved… if you leave me….Your salvation kisses me back to sleep.

Darfur Rising

Screams punctuated by…terrible staccato rhythm…/ice molten metal fire streaming through corpses of clay…/canvas tent decorated by blood of…that woman…/Khadija wraps Ismailia in…black burkha…/and with trembling terror…/…she …looks away…from lifeless form…/of her birth mother…/cursing the robber who stole her soul…/and with…mindless strength…ignoring crippling horror…/she wades through congealed blood river…/staining her hand…she holds son of her land...and emerges into sun and sand sodden fray…/bray of demon donkeys…greets her…/surrounded by janjaweed…she does not get far…/they seek to snuff out her seed…/seeing no escape from… circle of death she…falls to her knees choking on desert dust.../she whispers to the one true man she knows…Allahu Akbar!…/her praise of her Maker silenced by sword of her slayer…/her body is broken…/son buried beneath her is… quiet…/she…

… she begins to crawl….

…seeking to save the life that sprung from hellish existence…/the riders are gone…/wails rend the air as…her folk emerge to meet her there…/she breathes final words of instruction…/she wishes him well…she wishes he’d live to hear tell… of how…/with blessing for him on her lips.../his mother passed to eternity…

…as…shadow of child souls darken the earth…/song of my slain sisters…/brings this story to close…I sit in empty schoolyard surrounded by tortured silence… mocking nursery rhyme…/song out of time…/weeping and wondering how sun ever set on such chilling sound.

Nwam

With these April showers/I feel you flower into being/thick growth within my core/I now see my life through you/indelible scar on your face/my likeness binds to your form like/endless embrace…/and…I am within you for all your days…/shuttered tight eyes see you/inside my night crawls with Jesus/and He shows me how to… bless you/with song…/feed you with …truth…/urge you to…bear fruit…/and in waking moments I hear your breath in my throat…/touch your presence through my skin/you are kin/to warm when my life is spent…/…I now relish sweet expectation of your dawning/ first-born…first-son… first coming/you look like your Fathers/i already know your face.

...of ghosts and dreams past and present...

Ki le n se!..they are killing your children!!!.../glaring at me through prison bars/he extends hand and finger though narrow opening/my gaze settles on wizened cheeks/lids fluttering with each bold heartbeat/Wole admonishes me into/sorrowful regret/and I curse my silence/my mind railing against my tied tongue/my shame catapults me into motion/and …tearing eyes from his face/I …tear down darkened hallway/through broken pebbled alley…/silent screams boil in my chest…/I have no release../here in my dream…I am mute.

…I follow road to mud hut led by../woodsmoke/stooping to enter strange stronghold/I adjust my skin to darkness and feel my way in/here in my dream…I cannot see/feeling metal against paper skin/”Papa I am sorry…I have not made you proud”/wrinkled palm grazes my chin/and Chinua/brushes away shower of my tears from his…/upturned face…/”why are u afraid daughter…to lose gift freely given”/”go and plant rivers in the ground…pockets of your soul to…feed the earth…word music…to last forever…/go nwam…go…”/and I turn wheelchair towards fire and stumble out of his heart…/to…

…soundless dawn../and now in my dream…I am deaf…/but scent carried in the breeze nudges me towards/spice farm…where/I see battle scene among curry and ginger blossoms/infantry-man wielding manuscript runs towards enemy/stop!…I speak it again stop!!…maddened screams…stop!!!...and he runs and runs and runs…I feel volley of voices behind me…/and I turn to see woman and army of my kin…/in harmony stop!!/we watch him sink into Biafran war bayonet/and stream of life flows away from him/I crumble in a heap/…and am awakened by weight of funeral dirge/Christopher Okigbo is dead/who will speak for us now…

…women in white with shaven heads cry/empty children covered in ashes sigh through throats constricting in hiccups/souls borne away with father to hidden place beyond the grave/who indeed!...mother cries and …she turns to me…/You!...you will speak for us!/you will plead for us…/you will bleed for us…/now I... see…I hear…and I ...speak…and I speak…/torrents and Himalayas…/hollows and leaps and bounds and dense layers/screaming with swallows…/groaning with the trees…/my dreams carried to faraway spaces with the breeze…/I speak now for my mothers…/I cry for my children…/I fight with my brothers../I stand for all…for everything kindred…and I speak…and I speak…and still I speak.

Revival

..with hand on cheek…/ i slide my hand inside your thigh that day when we...whispered of orcs and villains...between Border’s bookcases…/sharp furtive sigh…/echoes inside vortex of forest glen…/…and within ... this bowel of God’s pubic bush…/we find entrance to…/…the way your love curves along with…every whim of my centerfold…/like…the way dreams live…within this strange awakening…of …/spirits and sound…long buried beneath../my heavy derisive heart…/like…your hands gathering to…your teeth…/cheeks of my soft swollen places…/I …visit structures within my passion…/architectural ode to the way to the way we knew we were meant to love…/staccato in perfect time…/fingers tiptoe through dank secrets…/reviving the …many faces…I make…/self portrait of my second, third and forth-cuming…/your.. methods court me into submission…sweet oblivion/glorious resurrection…/and what do you know…I feel like myself once more.