It Comes And Goes Poem by Joshua Nnachi

Again, these moments haunt me
A solemn smell of weedy sin
Smoking with forgiveness, and petulance.

It grows like mushrooms in me
Blossoms under the crescent moon;
A scrap of burnt incense as aborted hemlock
That falls like a meteor where prayers swell...

Birds fly in the wide sky
Bearing chars and scars of lost times
And weary de-ja-vus of the future.

The moving finger drinks of Time's pains,
Bleeds with sincerity and shyness of a growing need,
The need to reconcile and get on together;
But then the head is way too objective in the making;
Won't pave way for tears of softness and strength.

It'd rather remain stiff, strong, and die;
Die of haunting memories from now and then, and then
Drink from rivers of Lethe.

But, all is forgotten.
I'm stuck in a limbo of conscience.
Another de-ja-vu.

© Joshua Nnachi (2021) - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED