I stand a probability of love.
My uncertainty stays like the
weather,
weather,
I remain the placenta of tears,
My sore eyes speak of grief.
A damaged seed
Caressed by the soil,
Watered with care,
Remains a reduced yield.
Trapped a blood prisoner
In this sick cell,
Bloody hell, my blood’s in hell!
A priceless bail awaits me not;
Severe pain till time ends.
Hearing birds sing songs of hope.
When emotions pass my vein.
Tick-tock, no trust from the clock
To see the darkness of light.
I might die and resurrect
ill-fated,
ill-fated,
I might crawl twice on the rug of
lineage.
lineage.
I may not know yesterday,
Perhaps be here today,
Yet tomorrow, up and down; Eyes
me.
me.
Dedicated to sickle cell patients.
written by Animashaun Safurat
saffieraht@gmail.com