Golden Rags Poem by Michael Oluwasegun Adesiji

With a flashback through the years
I go wondering once again
Back to the seasons of my rage
The earliest years of my days
As a richly poor baby
Fighting life with a fist so mild
And a spirit so meek.

I recall my tour of many streets
The pleas and the grips
On people who wore blings
With their foots not bare
The passerbys and the bystanders
With faces full of bliss
And some good looking sandals.
I recall them all
About these lovely beings.

I recall the smiles only gifts bring
While my belly stings to the stretch
Of emptiness
I recall the feeling from receiving
The life saving breads
O! How relieving
I recall them all
About my family's spell in hell.

I recall the moments
My twin lies in lack,
Leaning to sickness,
Yet, not in bay.
With a gulpy eye and not a pill to take,
This he'd do, till he stands again.

Shall we say we were in riches
When we lacked, even a bed
Shall we say we had a mansion
For we had the world to stay
Shall we say we lived happily
When our faces made paths
For sun-dried tears
Shall we say we had it all
When the ground gave stray foods
Yet, we shared.

If that be, who shall we tell
That we weren't called
By our parents-given names
Through alms,
We got a compound name
We were called beggars by men.

We can go on and on
About a past so rough
The reverse is now the case
Hence; a memory to tell
For this I feel so great.

For so many rags, I had received
So many clothes, I now give.
I was just a needy lad
With no dime
But my unseen believe
Bouncing of hope in the pan.
I was just a golden rag
With my glitters unfound.
I was Michael, not a beggar.

•Golden Rags•

©Onyedikachi: The Cub To The Seven Gods.