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Beg for Love
By Cherbo Geeplay
“Don’t die,” his mother cried
by his hospital bed, weeping.
“I will be fine,” he managed
to mutter under thick
breath, the stars visible
as he stared at the ceilings.
Rage and hatred above us,
as winter comes and lays her
cold hands upon the shoulders
of the kid shot last night by
the cops, his corpse hot in
the mom's palms----tears
pouring down her soft
cheeks. Possibly we are
hurtling towards the quake,
moving the particles beneath
our feet, the deep void
threatening to open up
and swallow the earth
and the brick walls and
skyscrapers. The thing is,
if it obliterates us, how do we
beg for love, and pray to be
spared when there is hate so
much on the isles of the rug.
Stains visible everywhere.
On the soles of our heels. We
need no ticking time bombs
ignited by our own palms
and fingers. A dog sank
its sharp canine teeth
into the soft folds of
a man because it was
ordered to do so, obedient to
its master who loves the animal
more than he cares about another
living human being who worked in
the cotton fields that built a nation.
We can walk together in humanity
or perish, killing each other off
as the volcanoes rise from the
pits of the earth and swallow
us all before dark. She went
home empty handed.
“I will be fine,” were
his last words, but now
she has no heart. He is as cold
as a crumbled leaf in winter.
Copyright ©? In Parentheses Literary, 2021
Copyright ©
Cherbo Geeplay
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