Tobi Abiodun
As valiant men fall, fledging “the way”,
With hearts whispering their souls to go.
Some say die, some say stay;
Let them now float towards that seeming glow
or flit towards the brutish coming day
flitting towards the coming brutish day.
Let us lay flowers silent,
“No sigh-sounds nor tempest-tears”
To pay the debt of depths from whence the whispers are heard
that their souls may go where souls do go.
Let us not drift into that time,
Our hearts need our vows.
Let us now proclaim them our wives,
Our hearts need our vows.
As valiant men fall from systole to diastole
and the killing-metal by their heaving bodies lay,
Shuffled under snow-covered cloves.
Boys shall nest them in nets, hammocks left behind in the way,
Then shall the stars come in dazzling throngs,
To tents warmed by wooden stoves
and POWs whose livers hang by a thread.
Let us now chopsticks only that we may eat,
Eat in one great big gathering,
Lest the cesses of “the way” take away the kimchi.
As valiant men fall by the way Of War,
Woes deeply rooted in its clay may cling to their final words.
The shrapnel may build for us walls.
Walls of prejudice and hatred,
Except we build altars of incense,
To burn the profanity of our love.
c
Editor’s note: Originally published as part of the 31 Days of Poetry series on VicAdex.com on 18 September 2016.
Editor’s note: Originally published on VicAdex.com on 18 September 2016.
Editor’s note: Originally published as part of the 31 Days of Poetry series on VicAdex.com on 18 September 2016.