I used to hear words of pain
I’m used to hearing words of defeat
In this traumatic drama of my life
I realise they no longer need a body
The spill from lips wide open
Stained on my mind
From previous beatings
They easily flow out of my own thoughts now
Barricading me in less self-worth
Spitting toxins, I now imagine in my own mind
They have plastered themselves on my skin
Fighting to sink into my soul
Selling words of anger
Doubt
Fear
Hate, Pain
Frustration
That I keep buying
Even with my last cent
As I become indebted to them
They have made me believe
I owe them now
A slice of my life
A piece of my soul
That without their unjustified torment over me
They haven’t wrung their last piece
Even now as I fight
And stretch like an amoeba
Trying to find my right form
To break free of them
To extend myself out of their reach
They tell me
‘We’…haven’t debited yet
Our fill is yet unmet
Slide ever so slowly O Life,
I’ve many a debt to meet still,
Many an ache, pain to treat still,
To do some duties discreet still.
Some were upset in daily drill,
Some lost life's bet, some feeling ill,
Those upset, to welcome back still,
To win back the weary ’s wit still.
Some desires stuck are as dreams still,
Some work be done, debited still,
To heal hurts and harms of heart still,
Bury the dead, soothe bereaved still.
Some bonds that whilst bonding bore chill,
Links broken down on the anvil,
Nurse wounds of all relationships,
Tie up all these pending tasks still.
So, O Life, walk ahead of me,
Can I ever live without thee?
To whose blessing breathes my life,
Can I ever defeat its will?
Slide ever so slowly O Life,
I’ve many a debt to meet still,
_____________________________________________
Ghazal |11.12.2023| life
Poet’s notes: The year 2023 is about to bid goodbye. So is the life being lived. The poet here entreats time to slide by slowly, he has many a thing to do. Translation of a Hindi piece.
Can’t you for a moment be frank
About his being of higher rank;
That not once, not twice, your heart sank
And you’d wanted to yourself spank?
Nsofor whose sweat and robes stank;
The smell of air in his room dank!
I know your prayer is A Bank
Working in one should swell your tank:
On rougher days a sneaking prank
That makes one seem less of a crank…
Not in Nigeria of today:
Just above Two Thousand a day
You-please!-don’t change it to dollars:
Cost of the pants of footballers…
Now, one pays for iced juice one drank
Or it gets debited from shank:
A painful farewell to free malt,
As sellers shall one later halt!