Gold Dust And Cold Dust (For Every Boy Who Chased Gold And Found A Grave) Poem by Tony Cemaluk Egbuonu

He heard the earth whisper — 'gold here'
Pick in hand, hope in chest,
He followed the glitter
The world calls gold dust.

Every shovel, a prayer,
Every speck, a promise.

But gold dust does not love back,
It blinds before it binds,
The soil that shines
Is the soil that swallows.

He returned in silence,
The world called it cold dust.

Now the pit is empty,
The sieve is still,
One boy less in the village,
One mother's world standing still.

For gold that never kissed his palm,
He paid with breath.
Gold dust remains,
He became cold dust.