It was sweet- By Joshua Amile Ibrahim

It was magic and sweet

Coexisting to fight the conflict within

It was a voice that readily said no

Afraid of the confines of these walls

A mar of the real world,

Ridden out of existence from the minds of mortals

From the thoughts of an afterthought

Of a world or an afterworld, that may exist

To dye the paint of the picture conceived

A ruin of a model built.

It was melody and a bit of melancholy

Indeed a trek down the south just to fetch water from the oil-spilt rivers

Of Rivers and Bayelsa

It was a day full of despair for hope

Rage for both, that they happen so fast

And we couldn’t control ourselves not to cry

Not even for the abomination that thrives.

It is without pain and regret that I seek a redress

Like the cows of egret I fallow deep depths

Consumed by their sins, though I, a saint

Chase tomorrows from thence

I speak of stars and say “Wait for no stars from men

Chase away the chariots they send

To elope our senses”

For they knew I was fond of souls

I was, because I was raised with stones

Heartless and cold, even to the wise and the old

But the path I chose I fought to forget

And when my eyes become red, the memories appear

My heart becomes a deer’s

So small and so dear, humbled by the spears that seek to destroy it

I was close to dying and the fear of it

Something must have prompted me to stay

In this dying world.

It was basking and good if you’re asking

It was the only seedling of hope left

I carried the sounds and the smoke of fires

That burned throughout the time I was a boy

I told my kids to stay away from the windows

Where they’d see the rotten world and envy it

Mine is to protect posterity sterilely

And let men bury their old without mincing.

It was about sweetness and starters

Starting small and making big impressions

Waving exceptions for family and friends

Who are about the twelfth-hour

It was with a bridge of words and loyalty

That I take away self, submissively without saying

But my thoughts will often go to strangers in strange places and I

Will forget family and friends for strangers

“There is a lot to be done” I would often say

This was sweeter; the kisses they gave,

The fishes they grilled for a helping hand.

But tonight is not the night I dry away my tears

Or follow the path or touch my wife’s silky body

Tonight I conquer my strength and fade my weakness

That I may be called a man

Because with all these bears I was only a child.