Come Up The Slope Rider Friend Poem by Sarah Mkhonza

Keeping my foot on the pedal has to
be done to keep this bike
on the path.

Keeping my foot on the rungs of this
ladder is to make sure my feet don't
get tandla up in the spokes of the bike.

Keeping it going is like working on
till payday and the few dayscafter.
I hear the coins jingle in my purse,
louder as I go downhill and not so loud
when I go uphill. The loudness fuels my
ride.

If I could have the wisdom of a coin,
I would jingle in whisper mode. This
can tell the world I live in the pocket
of jingle-them-more. They would know I
threw a die to get them jingling and won
because my playmates were losers on the
same journey.

Tangled up in the spokes of this bike I ride how can I peep into the future. Say it like it sounds. You say through the
spokes of the bike.

Did you know I cannot
even ride a bike when
listening to this bike tale
on this bike trail
You thought I took a break?
Yes, the bike is being
pushed uphill.

It threatened to ride me
and said that had to
be. Why? For the pride
of being a bike rider
and entering a race without skill
set number one.

Embarrass ed on my own behalf,
I take lesson number one.
Equipped and pride beaming
through my ceiling,
I pass riders on the up-hill and
honk at them and share
a survival of the fittest story.