LOOMING CLOUDS
Am staring at screens
That promised future and blessings
I constantly dressed in Aaron's robes
And led kingdoms of tiny termites
In these caves made of mud
Musings swept away by tiny drips
Margins of this life are serrated
Stems bleeding out
I carry tiny cups to salvage a little sap from these leaves
Oh feet that carry me
Cracks behind you are open
I no longer compare you to my palms
Skin to skin...I scratch harder
Skin dust like flour, fly with the wind
For mercy and hope to find.
Walked harder here...
My tweaky knees and scraggy self
My strength wanes restricting the mileage of a path so narrow
I hear age calling...
Whispers of the innocent too at thought.
I lay on the seabed of my dreams
I hold the hand on my son
I kiss the cheeks of my daughter.
Sunday rituals days on posters pinned on my seventh finger
Horn blow whose message is thin on the ground
I'm lost gazing at the immense heavens above
I listen to the tales of Llao and Skell
A yearn to drink water from Mount Mazama...
Let me carve a name I remember
Put sculptures of the ones I bore
Eat from tables I once cleaned
Melt snow that took a bit of life from me
Restoring sanity...I will sit here
To recall old days when I was king and queen.
Maybe my poor mastery will bear little stars...again.
©ADHIAMBO AGORO
