Another Day Dies In My Hand Poem by Ben Anyi Agwudagwu

Another Day Dies In My Hand



Another day has died in my hands
Everyone hurried.
Everyone was tethered in the labyrinth of wriggling out a living from the quick sands of time.
Everyone bashed everyone and everything on the way into dust,
Nobody, nothing matters, all that counts was having one's way
No one gave me a helping hand to stand still the day.
It was gradual but a sudden veiling of everyone and everything in a murky cocoon
My eyes could no longer see my hands, so I lost the day
The avalanche to life turned the stampede of the cage
Borrowed eyes were blazing like hell for stone wall is everything without.
The intelligence of the borrowed eyes was shy of the brilliance of the day.
All became a shadow of illusion.
No one knows what lurks in the corner.
Everyone dreads each other and everything.
Everyone runs in a frenzy to their dugouts
Where everyone hides for darkness to dissolve into light.
Another day begins. Another struggle is born.
That is everyone's life

POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
This poem titled "How the Day died in my hand" encapsulates man's predicament at controlling time so much to do with so little time, Life is, as a saint captured it, but a guest in a hotel room, by noon, it's all over.It was written in Nigeria.
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Bernard F. Asuncion 18 January 2018

Ben, such an interesting poem👍👍👍

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