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