Taught to que at the last, cue being adherence to ‘orderity’
Wondering when and how order made this turn,
Scriptures of maleness and ‘majorness’ leading the weak neck,
Sex and symbology of defeatist protest against each.
To lay still, to rise strong, to peel the eyes for a long look,
Breasted fully to feed the thrust of needs for infant and adult,
Mother nature is a feast for the eyes and the soul,
Steel nerves in gentle songs of lifes passage,
Love has soldered on this blistering terrain of impostor teachers,
Who teach bitter repose and harsh swipes,
Against itself by way of dissatisfied ego,
And the planted schism of wrought benevolence,
That falls flat on the playing field of unequal semantics.
Old is nothing new than a revisit to now,
Death is not a reaper but a sower of a new foot and a newer boot,
Life is a transient guest who can’t be delayed,
But love is the bus and the driver that feeds the journey and the sojourner,
Away from it, collectively, we are prisoners of our own designed jails.
Guarding rot with expensive arms and steel walls.
The jailer and the jailed partaking of the same meal made of rotting grains,
The individual counts. The society counts.
The maths of life is music that counts in vibrational wellness,
Notes rising to wake good or falling to maim it.
We are a lot that rides on choices, chose what favors all.

Nancy Ndeke
@ May 2021

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