The Tower Speaks
In my hometown,
there is a constant chatter
The tower speaks
Aged words of
wisdom it says
Murmured words
of history
And long
speeches about scandals
The tower speaks
The litany of
the old general's affairs
And the short
drabble about the wars he won
Aged words of
wisdom it says
The tower had
several uses over the years
But the town’s
column it has always been
The tower speaks
A litany here,
some murmurs there
Fallacies or
muddied truths
Aged words of
wisdom it says
Taking a stand
against the wind
From every brick
on it
The town speaks
Aged words of
wisdom it says
Dirge
The morning dew
felt hot on the skin
As sadness
seeped within
Forgotten was
the schedule of the day
For the body
must be laid.
Laid to rest or
to test?
We know not but
do pray
That the soul be
blessed.
The journey of
death is a quest
The soul must
travel alone
Without his
bosom friends.
A shriek rent
the air
As hearts
tightened with despair
Body hairs rise
in salutation
With the
realization of it being
This is the last
time we will see
The rest of us
left will commiserate
Memories will
not be forgotten so quickly
And slowly sets
in
The new reality
of it
No more seeing
on holidays
No meeting up
for drinks
No wishes on
birthdays
No more inside
jokes and secret winks
Oh Dear friend,
To which address
will I write if I want to hear you sing?
HAJARAH ADOKUTU
HAJARAH ADOKUTU is a writer that is
greatly influenced by reality and mundane human experiences. Her work has been
published in Ojuju magazine, Art and literature (dizibooks) and elsewhere. She
also uses her blog (ajkut.blogspot.com) to introduce other facets of her musings
and literary pieces to the world.
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