Passages Poem by Adeosun Olamide

We share pieces of us,
Maybe the best, the rotted bits
To be preserved in existence

You dwell on the surface of the entanglements
The wounds, odors, plague, fluctuations,
Death that follows us

It's not us what follows us,
We are not victims, doleful- to be pitied,
Handicaps, waiting to be led
Desperate, a rage for fleeing

It does not sustain us, your concern doesn't
The shelter you present, the comfort offered,
It does not relieve the cold, the disquiet,
The thirst we are afflicted.

What do you know about us, about our feelings?
What?
It is not sorrow, tiredness, a yearning for a fanatic.

It is desolation, a boundless desolation,
Desolation,
And still, a yearning for nothing!