I had just finished raising the flag
Whose pole nestled at the centre
of the courtyard in the middle
of the castle that – with my sore hands –
I had built from the ground up,

When the great big wrecking ball swung.

With such disdain for decorum
she spared me no courtesy
Unearthing the cornerstones
and – with their ragged edges –
battering me to the point of unconciousness.

I looked up through the dust,
and there were no angels;
Just darkening clouds as the sun slowly vanished.

It would be a long un-ending winter:
palms to elbows, knees to nipples.
For the first time the doubt looked stronger,
Would I endure?

Then I noticed the blood running,
from the shackles that bound us
onto my toes;
And the knife I’d left on the window pane –
the one you asked me to get.
It too was dripping.

Uncovered, un-housed, unclothed;
With icy trickles – precursors to the downpour –
awakening my skin to the cold.

To the cold I’ll have to endure in your absence.
For what kept us one, you rent twain.

© Denis Adide 2015

“To goodbye’s unsaid. The unhappy ones unheard, like that blasted tree falling.” #Adideism

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