Our Almanac

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.
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