@Blackween 21 April 2021

Of Long Nights

The night seeps through the cracks of my mother's hut and the tin lamp light dances with the cold breeze as my fear peers into the blackened yard to find the monsters stuck harmoniously in my head. Crickets sing collectively when darkness sweeps the earth and scattered in the wind are floating fireflies reminding me that I am a moonchild regardless of the blood dangling from the tips of my hands. The mind races as does the blood pump in my chest unresolved matters are attempting to resurface and the cuts under my sleeves insidiously wish to voice a few dark things but the soul remains grave silent. The devil asks for one final chance and I gladly follow him to hell braving every fall that is slowly replaced by a wall blocking light from my drained spirit before he settles for just a dance. I stand on the ashes of everything I dreamed of and cry myself a river unclenching the fists that have defended this bruised ego from the wrath of my bloody altars praying for dawn to get here sooner. _____________________________________ This is for you to interpret. However it sits with your soul. I think everything in me is looking for it's rightful place and dark thoughts are no exception. Poetry is a warcry at times for me. It is the rhythmic flow that unburdens my emotional baggage and strips me back to nakedness. **wambuku w.**