YOU WILL BE THERE

 

Now, I am here,

Standing before every friend and peer,

Yet this day may be the very last

Mercy shows me

But life is sweet indeed

And many a dawn will bear its fruit

Like the babes born

To the widows of old,

And amidst laughter and pain’s stare

You will be there.

 

I will send for you,

A witness to the setting of my sun

As our faces kiss, void of shame,

I will boldly pronounce your name.

You must watch me go,

And forget me no more

Fear not, I am not afraid.

No false promises have been made.

I abide in peace,

Because in us there always is

 

My ever-faithful lover,

Forget my present state,

In dire times

Know that our years have been my salve.

Come my moments of seclusion,

When laid down my inhibitions,

As my arms reach for the people I hold dear,

Pray God! You will be there.

 

© Chinye Billeter

 

 

 

HOW LONG IS SOON?

 

Do you see today as forever more?

Is there a confidence in all you’re fighting for?

I have reason to believe in you,

To watch as your flavours shine through,

But in myself I often lie in thought,

Confused as to the many wars you have fought

 

I wonder if you consider nature’s transition,

The exchange of hers and your vision,

I will want to dwell with you here and beyond,

Long after the trumpet of sleep waves its wand.

But the minutes of each morning and night,

Seem to me like they come to worsen my plight.

Feels like they come through my past,

Where my will stands paralyzed.

But your approach to newness is different,

Your perseverance expresses knowledge,

Your hopeful glow reflects your courage,

The language of your uncoated tongue,

Pronounces wisdom of years long gone

All this, I admit defeat me,

Because I cannot touch the things you see,

 

In spite of the resonance of my ignorance,

I still desire to unravel the mysterious and odd nature of your dance.

Sometimes, I am close to establishing a link

Between when you act and how you think,

Then, I am thrown into the pit of secrecy,

Where that garden is again hid from me.

You ask me to ignore time,

As your soul is gently aligned with mine

But as you encourage and I try to hold on,

Age is walking and taking its own turn,

Such that I am forced to consider the inconsistent smile of a crescent moon,

And ask myself, ‘how long is soon?’

 

 

-  © 2002 Chinye Billeter

 

 

 

FALLEN STARS

 

Feathery whispers traced patterns on a fleshy mountain,

Silent emotions filled with passion

Lit up the sounds of lust.

Fantasies toyed with reality

Physically surpassing spirituality

For one moment in time

Mortality was meaningless,

Purity a matter of choice,

Loyalty incoherent words spewed from a drunk,

And honour a faded memory.

 

Abandoned in the arms of unrewarding desires.

Misty aromas swirled around two,

Unspoken commands sculpted their palms,

The day stood still and the sun folded its rays.

Mother earth froze and the night died

Yet they remained slaves trapped

In the muciferous web of mindless interaction

Empty utterances filled the sky,

Guttural sounds soaked the soil

With a pungency so vile that the land roared in protest

Hasty vows were made by two too eager to please death,

Lives were sold that day to the author of demise,

Two names were wiped off the plaque of innocence,

Their wings broken and flags lowered.

 

The sight of human debris satiated their cravings,

They thrived at being choreographers of pandemonium.

Children were objects of pleasure

Circumcised for the sake of it,

Exhibited in cribs laced with thorns,

Served the venom of asps,

And forced to believe in the fantasies of Hell.

But the Father of divinity slept no more

He rose and bloody showers danced in the sky,

Stenciled on young grasslands;

A horrifying scene transformed to beautiful gardens of promise

By the wonders of His incomparable love

 

There is a Deity of many tongues

Meant to inumbrate and illuminate paragraphs of our world

With unparalleled perfection,

A phenomenal masterpiece we can never recreate.

He seeks to abide in hearts reaching for each other

Without the merging of marrow on corridors of retribution,

But with sacred torches coursing through interstitial planes

In search of a pre-eminent monument,

The window of the soul

 

-  © Chinye Billeter

 

 

 

AMEN

 

There’s a place where rare seasons of joy will become

Melodious ejaculations of the moment,

There’ll come a time

When love will be greater than words can exemplify,

A proclamation of pleasurable sacrifice,

A determinant of eternal prosperity;

I know there are souls who journey beyond the cosmos

On behalf of those too burdened to fly,

Too limited to even try,

I know there are corners of this planet still of pristine character

Undefiled by marauders subliminally searching for the apocalyptic number.

 

I know there are children

Destined to capture this world with such innocence

As the descent of dew on a serene morn,

I know floods will blow past

Revealing a vicious demand for purpose.

I know we will explore, discovering that which yields

The acceptance or denial of truth;

I know that we are in part sublunary creatures

Machinated by celestial fires for the purpose of good,

Yet our sins, seemingly murky waters

Extinguish those heavenly chandeliers

Each time we pray and curse with one tongue.

 

I know death lurks nearby,

I feel it whenever my gates are open

And sleep succeeds in whisking me away

Without a whisper of gratitude in God’s name

I know we are very uncertain of the end,

We are petrified preachers perpetually immersed in conflict,

We are an undulating generation of contradictions,

Muffled choristers of indiscriminate desires.

Yet I know we will be pardoned for being ourselves,

We, predatory shadows, victims of circumstance,

Demoralising the already demoralised without trepidation of the descent of a higher hand.

 

I know we will vocalise our confessions as one or individual people,

We will writhe and pant after redemption and righteousness,

Hearken unto the sound of vesper-bells

Like true men of the cloth,

Hold hands with serfs; all acts of segregation dispelled,

Celebrate our negritude and fortitude,

Paint with the palates that nature spews

And steady the existing ethos by leadership of a prescient race,

A rainbow of diverse cultures

Chosen to silence the cataclysmic epoch

Of individual and global avarice

 

© Chinye Billeter