WISH FOR HIM
He’s getting used to burning his dreams
To keep warm, and weather the storm.
What it is it is; strange, as to him verses
Of seemingly lasting unhappiness.
Come and see.
Here on Many Streets Road
Varnished the king-story of his life.
He’s been, by time, drilled to being sad
From being too young.
He’s slaughtered, daily, into stuttering wishes
His lacks and remains are same;
Everyone’s garbage his baggage.
He belongs here – his heritage.
Society does well splashing all of him
Across reasons and seasons.
The media continue to look away,
And no one cares.
Do you see?
Like many infected nights, he digs deep
Wailing, forgetting, always, that in his
Neighbours ears, there is no listening, only
A transpose of deafened and echoing darkness.
Lingering silent hours of tearful thoughts remind
Him of forthcoming winter punishments, as his
Disabilities he begins packing together, to begin
Advancing on the lip of hope.
His light remains seized, his life paused.
He is lost, come what may, in finding
His story, or another, trying
Few Streets Road in his sleep.
On coming remembrance days
Remember to help find his story, too.
I which for him that his life, one day,
Outside of these memories, will begin,
For one of us he is.
I wish for him, tonight, a goodnight.
If you care, you can, too –
Wish for him…
© Tobi Akiode
(WISH FOR HIM)
Please follow and like us: