Divide the nine rivers
that run barefoot through battered trees.
Grass stains on bruised knees
ingrained in the ways of hurting the self.
Storms in the place of thoughts
that rocked the sleep
gave birth to sullen eyes
worn by children born to kill indifference.
We are those that choose left or fight.
Unrecognisable as our scriptures take fight
in the form of tears soaked into beards.
How dare the bare chested cry.
Lose yourself as winds beat fierce.
Breaking glass crushed by hands
as we forget to bow gently to the sands of time.
Forget rhyme. Forget rhythm.
We are the current of all the flows
nodding politely as we wave goodbye
to the grace of angels.
For we have convinced ourselves
that we have become them.
Numbed them out.
Fogetting what it was like to lay on your back
watch the skies
as psalms written in clouds
tell you that the future is already here.