Life laid a road for us,

In its highest,

The strongest challenges the eye of the gods,

Roaring to the tune of dancing throbs,

Swaying sunshine Rays

From where it oughta be.


A youth clatter in buoyance,

Tilling grounds

like a newly branded Ferguson tractor,

Raising mounds, conical aesthetic

Yanking colleagues to the floor

In Rambo style.


Able-ness conceived maturity,

Churning out finesses,

Growls, concomitant, bonding

Experience coiled around like a parasitic plant,

As though a treasure trove.


Age soon caught up unprepared,

Whoops, whips yet

The edge,

Dare to do, still lubricate that youthful canon,

Pushing and wanting to achieve


Now, in a loathed state,

Webbed to a mat, crawly and petrified,

Hands that once boasted of

Killing deadly animals,

Plowing grounds,

Could no longer carry a calabash of water.


Now, in a moanful state,

Perched to a bed, hissing and blurting,

Bemoaning legs,

That carried him as far as Upper Voltas,

And as wide as German Togoland.


Now, in a lamentable state,

Stationed in a quarter,

Cursing, groping and caressing

a room, a doleful air

That once provided cover,

sheltered in a harsh environment.


Now, in rueful state

Tugged to a tattered sling cloth,

Unable to chase an army of flies,

Creatures that never hovered around

In heydays. Greeny veg,

Blanketing a token eye peg.


Now, in a bony state,

Whining, and hurting,

Sucking the little liquid lips,

Sorrowing of the days, as they went by,

Knowing it will never be the same.


Now, in a Knocking state,

Drawing and yearning,

Mind glued to death-knell—

Purposefully, prayer parting gifts,

As life lives slowly.


We’ve come to the end of the road,

Live life like the known stranger,

It is.


Broken Promises by Linda Okafor And Southside

The Jewel

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