Details |
Jacqueline Kaliisa Poem
By the hour,
I watched you leave,
On a journey from which
You promised no return.
You reached for my hand
Every time that you had saved
Enough alimony from your divorce with speech,
And said goodbye with not a syllable.
By the hour,
Your pulse sung slower
And the distance grew shorter
And one day, the bridge was in sight.
I said every prayer words could form,
I held you tighter when I heard the drums
Of mortality calling to your soul
And wished it had been just an ordinary cough.
But it was your last.
By the hour,
I had murdered this moment a million times.
I wish I had murdered it one more time.
Copyright © Jacqueline Kaliisa | Year Posted 2011
|
Details |
Jacqueline Kaliisa Poem
Maturity. That’s his name.
Clad in tatters but armored in time,
He ripped me from the claws of a death
That had already composed the funeral hymn
For me.
He found me torn and dying
In a labor theater giving life
To something I didn’t quite know:
Something that had to replace the void
That one fateful night had left:
Something that could have been revenge.
He took its place and came into my life,
On a night of odds and spades.
He picked me up from the ditches of mortality
And embarked me on a road to everywhere.
He showed me that pain was endless
But that it always moved in pairs with joy.
Copyright © Jacqueline Kaliisa | Year Posted 2011
|