When sorrow sings: AP

This lacerating maps
on the soles of my feet
needs no compass,
It knows no friend but foe.
My leather bed will
sing their ode
and chant testimonies of their
incising deftness so old.
I know the road they trail
grazing on barren lands so frail.

This grumbling beast
in my stomach
knows nothing foreign,
But the feasting worms in it,
It churns its life
Vomits it, and swallows again.
I hear its rumblings
I know the cacophony of its mumblings
But like it, I’m not deaf to its rants
I feel it too.

Yet this obsequious stranger
within me sits in
absolute calm
like a corpse joking
in the face of death.
He is no friend I think
he stays and watches
the falling drapes of my bones
loosely strapped to my neck.
Surprisingly, today he speaks,
And says;

A day will come
when the thorns
shall prick no more
and the lactating
drops of bitterness
will know sweetness.

(C) AP

Patience Andrew fondly known as AP is a Nigerian Poet, OAP, an ambassador of COAL and spoken word artist.She lives and writes from Jos, Nigeria

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