The body as a ring for battles

But this body, is a cell with rusted bones,
Broken walls & chaotic breath.

A home hollowed out & void-
Steeping deep

Into a crust where wars have been fought
Between actions & contemplations.

How the forefinger fears the rage of a bullet
When it trembles on the trigger.

I brisk walk into my mind to think of a
Solution. A rope stretches through

My body pulling out
Anxiety & darkness & fright.

But what use? I am just a kid
Frail & dreaming of never

Making it out through the curtains alive.
I stand before many corpses. But,

the only thing dead is my imagination.
& am not I the same boy

who announces freedom as that rope
Around the neck, hung to a rooftop?

And mama says this
body isn’t truly mine.
She hurts herself with a razor & calls it my blood

In her body. She says we are one.
She says un-wriggle this rope from

Your neck. She says give me your hand &
Let’s take a walk outside your mind.
——————–
Poem © Chinedu Gospel
Image by ShemetN from Pixabay