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Baraka Mwakibete Poem
Emotion rips off my heart,
Like cold vinegar on my fresh wounds,
Feelings, a terrible assassin of all,
It kills my heart silently without a notice,
But unfortunately they make my soul complete.
Mirror is as bad as a magistrate court,
It speaks the truth too much,
Hurts when a pretty lady watches herself getting old everyday,
Mirror a great liar,
It reflects my left on the right side,
And worse enough,
All men appear holy in front of a mirror,
Since it reflects their bodies but not their souls,
Lucky enough mirror keeps my secrets and improves my personality.
Photo stores my images,
But forgets that i grow,
A camera is a bad foe,
It exposes the truth with facts,
A cold hearted traitor giving information freely,
Unlike my former folk the mirror very reliable but silly,
But honestly i use you to record and store information.
Faith gives me hope,
But makes my body doubt my soul,
The body is always left out of the meeting room,
From which the soul and the spirit meet with God,
Worse enough hope prolongs my torture,
Putting my body on a severe test,
Just like a diamond on fire,
But honestly faith creates optimism for the world.
Age is death’s closest neighbour,
From which time forces me to visit,
Age is an incurable disease,
The only antidote is death,
Age brings hope to the tortured,
the period from which they meet their maker.
My foes you piss me off,
But without you i’m all alone,
Far useless than a world without mothers,
Please stay with me and let’s get along,
Once gone my life ought to be miserable,
Like men without God,Stay with me folks make me a perfect human.
Copyright © Baraka Mwakibete | Year Posted 2015
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