Time Dancers Poem by A A Umar Udubo

He (for his gender)surges forth- striking, swinging
this chimeless clock'
a pendulum without form it bears,
is a holy giant snare- a faceless being
storing echoes of farawayback distant days
on the face of the moment
swirling around a wrapped tomorrow


(tomorrow)she stretches out
slippery hands- a siege
on our soul and body- holding us captives:
around glistering walls of bliss
about lone dark corners of prison gloom
and in the hard earthen bed beneath



and we
free captives
behind bony bars- barricaded against simple reality
watch surreal processions of time-dancers
march and march and march
reflections on a silhouetted glimpse:
our smiles on their faces
sadly, they walk into long black gown
darkened by centuries of happy agony
perhaps
simply stepping, foot, and then, another, to bright morning sun


bosom knows not when the heartbeats of time
stops; No, no tomorrow survives this locomotive ritual
not the time-dancers
nor the watchers- a cluster of coils on the braid of falls
master this unending game