With Uncontrollable Sneezes And Snuffles Poem by Sarah Mkhonza

Even when we talk till we foam in the mouth,
The world goes on to lay down even more,
In places where war goes on like a wheel,
That has its own unwarranted will,
We have to look for more things to say,
That will quell the struggles that go on,
Where we are helpless with this power,
Of the sneeze that is imminent,
For we will let it out and live again.

You and these lines written in your hand,
Are heading for the place where we will land,
For we have chosen to walk the path of angels,
Who will meet us when they hear us sneeze,
For ours will be the loudest sneeze,
For we smoked ground tobacco of the mind,
And sniffed it into our depths.

When you look at your hands always remember,
In them is written this story of life,
That is waiting for you to tell the earth,
For you raised the hands to smell fragrances,
Rubbed into them by the times from which we came,
Which carried us unknowingly to this now,
Where one minute we laugh and another cry,
For these smells of what our ears hear here.
Forces us to keep up these loud snuffles,
We cannot hold down for one day longer,
For we cannot stop their causes.

We can cry for the losses we see daily,
Of these dear lives we with were here
That have been made to pass to tomorrow,
And wish we were not feeling this friction
That goes on in life all of our days here,
Where we rub the hands in our frustration,
Holding no weapons we wish were not firing,
But look at the air which blows into our eyes,
This endless smell of friction in the air.

This lone walk we choose to go on,
Is one where we can meet the ruler,
And ask how to measure the story of misery
That he can quell by uttering this sneeze,
For sneezing together can end this agenda
Where the guns send out words with a gong,
Changing fragrances into bloody smells
For we cannot stand it anymore,
Even with all the salutes of soldiers,
Whose hands honor the fighting not the smells
Of the flowers whose fragrances filled the air,
Just after the rains that grew in our meadows,
Where buildings now lie ripped into rubble,
That will be thrown into lasting heaps,
That will tell this story of war.