POEM: HOMEWARD “Robbed”

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Drums of sweat, flowing with a pure beat

Scheme to wake

Conjure moving feet.

No metaphors of lost, No ticking sound

Fist to feast

Melodies of the ground.

I used life and filed my spear

Down its hill,

No rumbling I hear.

Pure as light, it kindled my life

Forever in flames

It married me a wife.

Crossroad of the saints, a shadow of fume

Wooden to its grave,

A pain and her room.

Torch-lighting my path, a tile so blue

My wave of fury,

My one and only clue.

Homeward I’m called a birthplace of peace

My comfort zone,

Not poetry in piece.

Rudolph Adidi

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