You claim her dressing entices you,
Aren’t you supposed to lower your gaze?
What stopped you from it?
You were meant to be an angel to her on earth
Not a beast
You ‘re a human, not a beast
And should’ve behaved like one
You weeded a farmland
Our ancestors never weeded.
A grass they never walked on
Water they never drunk
You breathe air they never breathe
Wind they never felt
Sunshine that never touched their skins
Beds they never slept.
You saw things they’ve never seen
Laughter they never laughed
Sauntering they never did
Haggles they never knew.
Into the Badlands, you craved,
Wore brain tools there never dreamt
Casket (imaginations) they never laid
Mechanical Shoes they never footed.
And whoever had given you much,
Expected much from you,
So did they labor and toil
All for society’s benediction.
Yet in our contemporariness,
Society had become the victim,
Not just the bad roads weeded
But the unexpected antecedence.
And to lay a hand on a sepulcher–
God’s own chosen abode;
When HE, and HIMSELF, cautioned,
Is the least humanity bargained.
Ahem! A bountiful price looms,
Pangs not sharper than anvil’s cry,
Breathless wails in a half dug pit,
Pebbles waisted on an illustrious life.
A voice trailed the moonlight,
‘If you had lowered your gaze,
You wouldn’t have fallen into the Crater.”
Soaked in a sobbing crowd–for and against–
Scar, darker than a birthmark, shouting,
“So many words might have died in dungeons,
But not mine! Not mine! Not mine! Not…”
Al Latif Kambonaang
picture credit: iStock.com