It's A Poem About Someone Who Lost His Brother. Poem by Joseph Ikhenoba

CYCLONES
I sat under a weeping cypress
At a forest.
Gazing at grey skies.
Tear drops.
My crimson liquid,
Eric had just turned to a weed.
Stung by swarming bees.
Then, as I peered
Through his white wooden box.
I heard his spirit whispers.
Come, let's dance on farm stead.
And play tambourines
For a Green Corn feast.
Hastily, I arose.
Dusted my palms and soles.
But his spirit disappeared
Among garland of thorns.
Oh! Such a Morning Glory,
With gaps between his teeth
Has gone with the wind.
Dear life.
Why has Persephone?
Chewed Hades pomegranate.
Well, I don't know.
Cyclone.