Meekness Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

Gold-pupiled
eyes of ivory-
browed
daisies peek at sky
for the speck

of fire cloud
that doesn't burn
them into
withering shreds,
but find none.

In the fortress
of their silence,

the daisies
fold in their cream
shirt collars,

their cheeks
shrinking
into deepening
tunnels

running across
their skin
and deep
into their flesh,

but they find
no nook under

a large-armed
maple tree's
umbrella

smoothly swinging
a thousand
fingers of branches,
but pulling in
no winking daisies.

(ii)

Grinning all day,
their gold eyes
shooting stroking

darts at
the world
that land
only on cotton
screens of air,

ricocheting with
flamy arrows
shot by muscled
sun rays

to crush their
cream sleeves
into wrinkles,

as they gaze
at sailing sunflowers
of sky, these

silver altar plates
behind muttering
priests

dishing out
communion discs
to catechumens

bowing to sky's
hollows
and crushing
themselves
into air's powder,

as they kneel
to the deities
and plant
themselves to grow

more cream
and white sunflowers
of sky whirring
silently to the daisies.

(iv)

By the quietly
seated, star-focused
flowers
stands a horse

carrying
heavily ruffled
blankets
of cirrus clouds.

Cirrus, drop
no more
boulders of cream
cirrus blankets

on this horse,
who stands
breathing in

every speck
of gold
hurled by daisies'

eyes sharing
no needle of pain
with the horse,

but quietly riding
his groaning
saddle,

as they wince
with in
a whizzing breeze.