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Poem

IDENTITY

I am a Captain,
on my ship called destiny;
on an ocean called life.

I have been a pirate,
(those that steal.) 
forgive my use of words;
taps from others’ destiny.

While they are moved and pushed by storms.
Storms of different shapes and sizes,
earlier in my life, it was from dysentery and poverty.

They towered over me sometimes like a tycoon,
and some other times like plain gloom,
But otherwise, I got used to them except, 
poverty which I could control by tapping.

Now I am in the midst of my voyage,
with evils unknown, dangers which even my ancesting navigators;
fail to tell, show their ugly head.
If it was about just malaria, polio, even hunger;
I could find myself.
But in the storm of what they call Covid-19.
Never forgetting the hurricane called climate change.
I am assailed.
I no longer know what I am called.
I have lost count of the days.
I do not know whether an
elder captain will trust me,
with his offspring whom, 
I desperately need to succor.
I am lost.

Rather than help,
The effigies called parents,
tell me to feed for myself.
The storm was hitting them too hard,
even harder, 
and they were liable to die from this hurricane;
and get nearer to the destination.
I sighed,
as I fold my only coat around me;
in this cold heat.
I have lost my course
and only wish the destination called
death moves nearer.

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