Boluwatife Kuku, 

 

Let your mind rise

Above the polluted skies

To your floating city

 

To find [__]

 

It glitters of silver and gold

Or so you foretold

(It reeks of self-pity)

 

Ignore the prison

It distorts your vision

(they’re your captives, your cellmates)

 

Seek not the graveyard

Your hopes they retard

(it’s not your home nor your fate)

 

Travel underground

Closeted skeletons abound

They whisper your shame

 

To the sewers and catacombs

Where dark water foams

And whispers your name

 

Past the dirty halls

Behind the musty walls

You will find [__]

 

And [__] is you.

 

[__] has many forms

A shield of paper or thorns

A double edged sword

 

A hundred-faced mask

Conflicting questions they ask

A wall of wet cardboard

 

Do not pity [__]

Do not justify [__]

Approach with care

 

Hold your judgement

Still your resentment

For [__]’s hurt you share

 

Because [__] is you.

 

Listen with open ears

Listen to [__]’s worst fears

[__]’s wish for love

 

See with open eyes

See, do not surmise

These feelings are unheard of

 

[__] may scream and rage

[__] may flood the stage

With hidden fire and pain

 

[__] may rip and tear

[__]’s skin and hair

Albeit in vain

 

Your hearing may be muted

Your vision may be diluted

Your lungs stabbed with knives

 

Your body may get cold

Or burning, or old

Or itchy as a bloom of hives

 

Embrace the sting

The skeletons rattling

And the prisoners’ agony

 

Embrace the dread

The moans of the dead

Wails of lost harmony

This may be your trip

Where all defenses are stripped

It will not be the last

 

Where you visit your city

And it’s not all that pretty

And you’ll be harassed

 

But [__] can change

Can be rearranged

Through soft times and rough

 

For [__] is cared for

[__] is worth waiting for

[__] is useful

[__] is wonderful

[__] is beautiful

 

And [__] is enough

 

Because [__] is you

And you are enough.