From the gloomy dust, I rise from Hades' spell to see the sun's glory on a splendid morning.
The inner man greets me.
Rise from the clay that binds you, and from the gutter's belly.
Rise to see your Father's radiant face watching the human soul.
You walk on moons; all I see is pitch and unpaved roads.
I walk on the crust of land, and envy ships swimming on water.
The world walks on its hurting soul, and on ancient bones.
Children bare feet, travel on unpaved roads,
‘Go to school, study hard, the money will come.' John's father preached his sermon.
John did only one.
Her father's hands extend beyond the land.
Her hands are sealed like the mouth of his vault.
Trembling with every grasp, his wrinkled hands
will never find their youth.
What is Love?
I cannot find,
A hostage in the hands of time.
His hands are like the branches of a mango tree,
dispersing fruit to his neighbours far and wide,
their hearts elated, eyes tearing, tummies sufficed.
When I die,
bury me in the sky.
Angels will read my eulogy
The Son will smile,
Removed, the hands of dark clouds obstructing my vision,
rolled like a scroll to the edge of the earth.
The way where I walk is a slippery trail.
I stumble in my path with eyes set on that ball glowing in a distance.
My love, thou art beautiful, a rose on my chest, a whisper in my ear. Thine eyes arouse my heart and consume my mind and sleep. I dread the silent nights because thou art far, like a stranger wandering through the city.
Thy lips tempt me, like peaches when flowers bloom, with sweet scents of perfume.
I am hypnotised, speechless like a statue, and fear myself like an illness.
Thou art a goddess, powerful like the wind―
I love thee but thy carelessness troubles my heart.
I see sadness in thine eyes when thou art hungry,
standing a few feet away from my table,
fearful of my mother's scorning.