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I.
It came unannounced—that Greeking
Covid thing—delivering a secret of nature
And her moon-like ways in her allegorical
Messaging; bringing about corona-like reality
Molded in the mysterious waxing and waning
Of the night reflector of the daily sun—teaching
Waxing always precedes waning and the waning
Never flattens but merely curves backward.
With it all, nature sent some of her other selected
Pedagogical storms—other pedagogical storms—with
Their painful lessons that have become a plethora of
Excruciating enlightenments; casting dark shadows on
Values of our formal and informal credential-powered
Society and its various forms of disproportions which
Are conveniently overlooked, if not dishonorably denied;
Yes, we have known and come through many storms
In this life—have known—and many have experienced
The devastations of the collateral damages that all types
Of wars have left behind; but this present storm—present
War—came dropping silent bombs; leaving mountain-piles
Of deaths and a plethora of collateral damage in a world
Caught off guard by ignored warnings and lack of prep:-
It is amazing that in today’s world-struggle against
The extermination of the silent enemy, the power that is
In the selfish hands of illusionary-minded beings, remains
Set on warmongering; getting to the moon and elsewhere;
While—all around—victimized beings are dropping dead
Like flies in a bombing cloudy mist that rivals that of Raid
In spreading death over sheltered in place battlefields.
Standing on the rungs of hope of the ladder of living life,
We look out over the horizon—our eyes’ vision falling
Back onto the dreadfulness of home; as we pray that it’s
All a dream turned into a nightmare we would soon
Awake from but the reality makes us wish that we could
Go back into the nightmare of sleep, as reality further makes
Us realize that humanity has honestly failed to realize that
It is God who rules this endemic garden with its abundant
Resident poisoning snakes and enticing sweet fruits of life:-
Now, here we stand—weary worn—tried and tired—heads
And hands held high with our eyes still on the prize, as we
Beseech the Most High to please come where we now stand
And hear our cry of the present ironic transgressions we bare.
II
Once again, we find ourselves in the misty midst of war
Where bombs and bullets, like maggots, crave dead flesh
Satisfying their warm hunger with the coldness of death;
Meanwhile, stilled-peace threads war’s bloody waters.
And once more and again, the cries of ours and those of
Mother Africa’s children are muffled by screams elsewhere.
Yet, in the midst of it all, we must remain steadfast in our
Sojourning to ensure the liberation of hers and our children;
Indeed, our children remain fueling essence of our tomorrows.
However, let’s be ever aware that our tomorrows are in jeopardy
Least we continue to raise today’s awareness of our borne children.
We must continue to raise their awareness of who and whose they are.
Our tomorrows are in jeopardy lease we take back what was given us
In the beginning—least we continue to remind our children of ancestral
Lands and the great nations that gave roots to this world’s civilizations;
Indeed, our tomorrows are in jeopardy least we continue to remind
The children that to not know is bad; to not wish to know is worst.
And that they are of trees whose roots are anchored deep in time.
In these warring times, our tomorrows are in jeopardy least we
Continue to remind the children that fruits never fall far from
The trees—their aged trees—laden with flowers of love’s powers;
Sage trees that barked with divine wisdom and guidance, fusing
Seeds with the ripening needs of fruits borne in trying time. Thus,
With eyes on the prize, let us be as if riding on Hannibal’s elephants.
