I flipped over this book
Where tensions create lines
And birth their offspring.
These pages have deaths, terrors
And readers gulp grievances
Like morning coffee.
Those faces that giggled
Confessed of stale joy,
Shredded harmony and the melody
Are sung with raining bulbs.
From this bread, I ate fluffy confusion,
Drums were beaten
But no one’s to dance
With wriggling legs, teary eyes.
In this book,
Only grieving hands
Are treasured on empty nights,
With madmen noises and
Sorrowing pens to make a jotting,
Of this dusty boulevard.
The mad in faith,
Are to clap and lose
Their vocals, till their
Bodies become barren of moisture.
This poem was published in the January 2022 Edition of the WSA Magazine.
Read – Life – A Poem by Katana Grace Tendo, Uganda
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