CARVER OF DREAMS

To the God of sweet things
Carver of dreams
My tongue carries the music
Of thousands of dead men
Whose melody comes from an old song – Eden

My hands weave a story
Of men lost in this old song
For the drums of their hearts
Are played by the hands of sin – Eden

My heart holds the memories
Of the history of a land
That holds water and blood
And men who recite hate in their songs

We’re these broken men
Guitar strings with no song
Restless waters flowing ashore
Shadows fading into the darkness
Of a night of broken dreams

We’re these broken men
Flowers stuck in the throat of hell
Stones that dance during the reign of thunder
Calories running out of the belly of the sea
Into a land deserted by lost travellers

Who told us
That man would find heaven
When he drinks from the bottle of pride
Who told us
That man would dine with God
When wine is invited for the feast
Who told us
That man would meet God
When he travels to a brothel of lustful thoughts
Who told us!

To the God of sweet things
Carver of dreams – we pray
Our prayers are rain
Flowing from broken pots of cloud
In search of a home in the bosom of river-earth.
Our prayers are stars
Travelling to the sky, waiting for the flame of sun
To burn us into ashes falling in repentance
From the cloud of ugly things

For we sing all songs but love
We know all things but truth

To the God of sweet things
Carver of dreams
Carve us into feathery butterflies
Bursting into colourful songs
Like the songs in the hearts
Of the wisemen who followed the star
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Poetry © Wazani Adamu Ijarafu
Image: Petras Gagilas via Flickr (cropped)