Farook Ajose

I have been strong for far too long.
I have grown sick of feeling wrong.
The words stuck on the tip of my tongue.
They are not new, they have once been sung.
...

I will sow
As the world warms
And my seeds disperse.
...

I am the whistling of the wind.
I am the stillness of a lake.
I am the rustling of the leaves.
I am the ripple in the waves.
...

The air was thick in the workshop.
And for once the dust was choking.
His neck hung like a metal rod.
His back had turned a grainy hill.
...

Sonder. I sit here and wonder how life would be if I were another. Beside the statue, I spot two ladies. On the bench, sits a man in his eighties. Of the former, one's tummy seems round. I wonder how life feels when you're expecting babies.

Is she married? Is that her friend? I'm getting dreary as I think about her end. For her child, is whom to care? The thought of this, I cannot bear.
...