The Poem (Inspired By David Smalling)
Before the lapwing learned to fly
Before the flower came to die
Or make a presence of death
Out of the fragrance of our breath
Before the drum
And before the thunder rolled
A voice
Behind the curtain of the dark
Like a quickening, sudden spark
A voice
Across the waters scrolled
And now behold
Words with wings of tongue beating
In little cages, singing heartbroken songs
The Word
Becoming man
Dreaming of eternity out of eternity
That seems never coming back again
And I
Breaking global boundaries with my feathers
I crying to leave my chains
Like sepulchre clothing in a cave
I hating the partition of rooms, the segment of brains
Hating the new world order and oppression
Know my cage is not vitual
O let no genie turn my love into a ritual
I hear their wings beating in head
My heart is a sudden sleepless bed
I write the sound of images
My heart returning where I fled
Time and space chaining me to the dead
Things giving birth in my head.
Copyright © L'Nass Shango | Year Posted 2010
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