The Resistants Poem by pedro moshood

The heart of a cannibal
That beats at every interval
Seeks the head of the prophet of doom
If it condemns the way of Herodian.

The winter solscitice though heralded
In horoscope, yet tomorrow
Is drowning under the pull of gravity.

The draught has brought the house
Against itself and the only truth
We know is what the conscience
Divulges to us while we observe in silence.

Yes, we observe in silence and listen to the chants
Of the priest that divines with beads of cowries
And shells and kola nut at the foot of communal deities.

We acknowledge the dark and we befriend the night
When we cannot see the faces of those we know
Or the fingers that peal the skin as though
caressing our aching back while the sun still stand firm and still

We befriend the night when the galaxy has left
And the world is engulfed dark inside our mind
Or when the snail has cringed in its shell
And when the serpent can no longer seek the prey.

We are the children of the night that wrestle
With spirit that recruit us for the truth
And usher in new dawn in the light of truth
To break from the string in darkness in our mind.