by Agbaakin O. Jeremiah
This poem by Agbaakin dissects the anatomy of hope and the sacrifices involved in wanting to live again in a world haunted by blood; which is letting go all hurts and dark memories.
“a lost bird sang:
finding home is a risk. “
i’ve tried to transfuse blood
into these anemic quills.
but what’s a fattened pen
without fat fingers to guide it
through the hot deserts
in the city of Abram’s journal:
a library is smoldering away
with dirges and ash
in Aleppo and Rann.
as stylographers filled
the almanacs
with bloodied memories;
and approximated death tolls.
to breathe, you must cut out
several twigs of air;
for again dead bones shall twitch
under the half-neon skies of hope
into the windy valley of poetry.
Agbaakin O. Jeremiah cannot escape the prison of poetry. He’s written/forthcoming in several publications e.g. Liquid Imagination, Antarctica Journal, Poetry Pacific, and elsewhere.
