Rahu’s Shadow
When I was born, I believed myself free,
But Rahu came—
A warden of illusions, a prisoner-wider,
Keeper of debts written in the ink of forgotten lives.
He spoke without mercy,
“You will occupy cell number 8.
Do not ask what crime you committed—
Karma remembers what you pretend to forget.”
My mother wept, begging for reprieve,
But the verdict had been sealed
Long before her tears could touch the earth.
The soul contract was signed,
A covenant in shadows,
And Rahu laughed like a sovereign king
Who feeds on the weakness of men.
“Through pain I will sculpt you.
Through exile I will teach you.
Your chains are your wisdom,
Your darkness—your sight.”
And so I was sentenced.
On the 29th of December, 1991,
The gavel of the cosmos fell.
In this labyrinth of fate I met Mercury,
A sly companion with wings on his feet.
He said, “I am only a messenger,
Bound by Rahu’s decree.
Yet I shall give you words,
Quick as lightning, sharp as daggers.
Through me, you will cut the silence of the world.”
Mercury gave hope,
But hope that burns, not soothes.
He promised not freedom, but speed—
Not peace, but voice.
Thus I became both prisoner and prophet,
Chained in Rahu’s domain,
Yet armed with Mercury’s fire.
And if you hear my poetry,
If my words reach you faster than thought,
Know this—
It is the echo of my chains striking stone,
It is the voice of a prisoner who writes his way out,
Though the cell door never opens.
Copyright ©
Chanda Katonga
|