The body as a ring for battles
But this body, is a cell with rusted bones,
Broken walls & chaotic breath.
A home hollowed out & void-
Into a crust where wars have been fought
Between actions & contemplations.
How the forefinger fears the rage of a bullet
When it trembles on the trigger.
I brisk walk into my mind to think of a
Solution. A rope stretches through
My body pulling out
Anxiety & darkness & fright.
But what use? I am just a kid
Frail & dreaming of never
Making it out through the curtains alive.
I stand before many corpses. But,
the only thing dead is my imagination.
& am not I the same boy
who announces freedom as that rope
Around the neck, hung to a rooftop?
And mama says this
body isn’t truly mine.
She hurts herself with a razor & calls it my blood
In her body. She says we are one.
She says un-wriggle this rope from
Your neck. She says give me your hand &
Let’s take a walk outside your mind.
Poem © Chinedu Gospel
Image by ShemetN from Pixabay