FOR A PARTING (A SOLDIER’S MEDLEY)

When dawn girdles with these lives,
A tar away from the sunrise,
Bearing freckles with its drunken rays,
A gourd for milk and a God for when the whiteness is long gone,
Only to seek sprinklings from divine fists,
And love from the flowing stream,
Making this searching a reflection of ourselves,
As we seek what already lies nestled in our pouch.

If we pick up sight from the dust,
Lips shall clump in one beckoning,
“quench this ice from the flames” they cry,
For not finding desire in blood,
Only means the meal has been given,
Taking away loss and the mute crippling it births,
War and death as only to say war is death.

Halima’s lips should meet with mine,
Before the noon meets with our lives,
For the dawn slumbers and slacks before the final shifting,
Perched visions never brought us sight
Ominous are the caricatures of this very light,
When it comes to you with its black moldings,
Is only to say I have lost my last breath,
For the sunrise meets alone with itself.

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SEEDLESS TEARS

These tears shall riddle the green fields
Little drops will filter over the pernicious laying
Falling after itself, over and over again
As same lives take a different bending
Only as fair as its auspices in blurry cloaks
Before the obvious meet at the road’s end

Different lies take us in one fruitful direction
Of known bleedings and unknown healings
Wrapped in a bed of its own kind
Rendering the salty cradle to just a dab on this shriveled collage
Spewing the green leaves to dusty brown
A gloomy imprint of our very fears

From the annals of these droppings
To our legs over the very soil that sips our tears
Yielding everything that stands bare
It is only fair to say these words
“We kill our own tears, on this seedless trail”
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Poems © Philips Chidumebi
Image: Pixabay.com