Cele Uwa

 
When the news came from home
Spirited by the waves
That you had gone
I snapped my fingers beside my ears
To still the steps of fate
 
I weave a basket of words
To accompany you on your journey
 
If you listen really hard
You will hear the trilling of my voice
As it calls your name
And reminds you of what you were
What you are
 
I garner a harvest of euphonies
To lament my loss of you   
 
 

Seattle, Ash Wednesday

Bricks and mortar
Cracking
Buildings sway
Dance to an unheard tune
Chairs accomplished
Waltz across floors
“May I have this dance, Miss?”
Running feet
Racing hearts
Praying for an end
To this quaking of the earth.  
Before my stomach
Became a moon
Bulging and full
You promised me the earth and all in it
You swore to pluck the very heavens for me
And lay it under my head
A pillow of wealth
Now
You throw words at me
Plastering them on my cheeks
With a viciousness
Like a mason at work
With an unruly tool
Before I was
Your unrivalled goddess
 Now I am
Your unbridled dog
 
 
 

 Musings

 
If we do not fox trot to this tune alien to us
Would we be allowed into the inner sanctuary?
 
If we do not kow-tow to the deities they serve
Would we be allowed to enter paradise?
 
If we do not claim that the Chief’s clothes are elegant
Would we be allowed to see?
 
If we do not savour their words like they were fresh palm-wine
Would we be allowed to taste?
 
If we do not say that we believe them
Would we be allowed to live?