Wednesday, January 14, 2015

HARMATTAN’S VERY HANDS



Dusk waits for me at the riverfront
I hide the sun behind my palms
But it sleekly slithers through
Shedding scales into my soul..
Dusk, like donkomi, ding-dongs for me
But, metamorphic peace finds me seeking, I hear
There’s a God who carves tunnels in the air
And eyeballs the urban baobabs oiling their skin with tears
And blighted grass tasting emotional flames..
As the puddles under my eyes disappear
I find comfort’s manger rocking
Where the laps of my inner clouds babysit dawn
And I know too, the journey always leads to dusk
For all things birthed shall one day pass..
Heavy like the harmattan conks, I’ll share this breath
I’ll nudge into skins, hear my hoo-has!
Once I’m here

By Jeanne Clark @jeanneC_IO

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