The Ice I See
What is this ice I see...
I'm trying to trace my race
through the ages
Refine the whites of my eyes
so you too can feel,
Instruct the dark of my will
to see the whites,
What do these eyes instill...
a wavy discomfort so
my freedom can't kill
A reasoned denial of
pacy impatience
A duly paid debt of life
I haven't lived,
What is this trial I cede...
I'm seeking to drive a taut
rewiring
of shifting sands,
Recline serenely in shifty chairs
as progeny
screams peace,
What is this due I'm owed...
a simple cry of contrition
and dutiful restrain,
What in ice repeats
is
the bouncing recurrence of virtue
atop a twisted treat
Copyright © Lebo Bopalamo | Year Posted 2016
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