Alone In A Throng


Hear me if you can, 

Clearer than the trumpet sound, 

Hold me when we see, 

Tighter than the clinging vine. 

The drum talked, Or so I thought,

Until I saw the ones who hit it,

Holding it so high,

And their power seemed to be in it.


They called my name,

I refused to answer,

They called again, This time in my native tongue,

And there I was, answering like the clarion.


After all  said and done, 

My soul feels so undone, 

With grips from higher and lower places, 

And cheers from nook and cranny. 


I hear my mind requesting louder, 

My heart demanding closer, 

My body wishing a clamor, 

All to strengthen my feel less real. 


Mouth wide open, 

No word comes forth, 

Like the open gates of trade fare, 

I stand but with no entrance, 


The marketplace looks like a wilderness, 

With All its calmness and terror, 

The world seems like a cemetery, 

Just graves with names inscribed. 


How can I explain the unending flow, 

Of the salty stream that I harbour, 

The one they say flows from the weak, 

Yet the strongest own. 


Where is it? 

The flames with no fire, 

Hidden in the hell you all preach? 

Or under the stool of mother earth. 


Why do I fear the word "Mother"? 

Could my mind be telling my mouth?

Of the hidden bleeding, 

The one that might never stop. 


Don't let that gun shoot, 

I would willingly take the bullet, 

But can you live with it? 

Or would you end us all? 


Should I add OH!

To make you all feel poetry, 

Or drop my blood seal, 

To tell you I write my life. 


Silence all sounds that wake my demons, 

Chant loud Ubuntu for our unborn to hear, 

Holding My hand in the rise and set of the sun, 

As I wake to the rainbow trying again with you. 



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