Spirit, do i own...
did i own the knowledge of all that was to come
upheld secrets, rewritten and retold in silence
violations transformed into rationalization
victories rewarded with self flagellation
colorless bruises no earthly salve will heal
screams of silence
swept up on backs of pans and irons
and walls now forced to feel
secrets pushed into tiles and sealed
cuts of words, unspoken as they speak
the constant freak of vague fear
talent denied, displayed at half mast
still wearing wires that strap the limbs
and tighten the mask
fear of success, homeless purpose
voices in my head tuned only to the heat of the escape,
they run frantic
and dance with the flailing arm of the ape
voices in my head
they have no intentions of compromise
yet it is a meager list i carry
it is a life to be embarked on in tight clothes...that's all
as the Oba said to me
..."do not eat of that heavy fruited tree..."
i sit and wait in familiar deadly silence once more
i start again
and ask the Oba..."will you know me once i turn my belly to the sun?...
...for i speak in tongues and wish on the moon that rides the bull
and still...i am not full...
...Oba, will you know me then?
...if not,
when?
