My Cold Morning Poem by Fortune Abraham

Colder than my black night
Ridded of mortal rest by grief, shock and confusion
Oblivious of salient facts and
With my eyes set on the hills
I sought a panacea, an all knowing and all powerful existence
Who would rid me of my quagmires?
Which are fast pilling up like the body hills of Rwanda in feud
As my so my position is without a confluence,
Raging waters slapping my cold sides like my mother’s palm in punishment
Tears have ceased to flow from my eyes,
But my fidgeting still tarries as my cold night lengthens....