Growth
I feared heights when I was a kid,
& as an adult, women and responsibilities are what I fear,
If heaven is in the skies,
Maybe one day I'll meet Him on Jebel Amianin,
When the urge to think,
Draws me close to Him.
It's weird how of all the million pages in a newspaper,
Children only scan the colourful pages,
Funny how I used to be that kid too,
Carefree and excited,
Yet now,
I can't help hating familiar places that once held dear memories,
Growth has two things,
Disappointments and misquoted statements,
They say bees flea smoke,
But what if smoke is the most polite language that tells the bees go away,
We sleep with hope of a colourful tomorrow,
But when we wake,
Tomorrow is a yesterday and the next a tomorrow.
Sometimes my future is the miraculous Mosaic bush in flames,
& I have high hopes a ram will appear and I'll I'll walk out the furnace,
But every waking morning,
None of these hopes,
Comes out of the smoke.
Now I grow from strength to strength just to fill someone's shoes,
For expectations— which always did exist
And needs, of no name— of many names,
Just like I'd drop a tear in the ocean,
And be tasked to find it.
A pair I can appreciate about growth,
Is that I can sew words and make a dress of it
& Coffee isn't off my boundary anymore,
So yes,
I'm living the best I can— one day a boy—the next a man.
Copyright ©
John Ngor D Garang
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