The Lamp
Pulling truth from the roots
So that it hurts
Mopping the floor with your tears
Still afraid to face your fears
Being like your nation
Afraid to take up your mission
Stuck on thoughts, glued to thoughts of passion
Not accepting you’ve given failure permission
Walking a verse to an exercise book
Just to hear people query your writing’s looks
Literally you are not in the woods, you are only emotionally so
Reaping the harvest that easy ways sow
Touching up your make up so that your beauty glows
A river is stuck on its way, so we settled for the spring show
Hello there, dear soul
Probe thyself, let flow
Your looking glass self needs a minute
I am not psychic but you need a reading
A reading about learning to breathe
Learning not to demonize the greed of your dreams
Hello deer, how soon till a pride falls you
How much of your acts did prying eyes force you
How much is there in a restless self
Not calling for the help you need, is reckless in itself
Pulling hope from its rusts
Finding a polish for self-trust
Renaming your challenges as opportunities
Calling fear a bully, declaring yourself as no longer ‘yours truly’
You have found space for thoughts
And a bigger one for works
Living life for the toil
Seeing accomplishments at a finished line but already tilling new soil
Moving in to a place where bits assemble along with pieces
Saying we are coming together, only if you stand close enough to receive our kisses
Sweat isn’t a bad thing if you are assured of a bath
A screaming woman is sights for a crime scene but you’ll be pleased about becoming a dad
Go atop a mountain, so to the earth it can carry your message
Your red line is to toil till life allows your dreams passage
Flip the page, a new age beckons
Here we are, thrusting ourselves onwards and upwards
Redefining what forces reckon
Ode to a Grecian urn
A dimple is ample response to a heart that is turned on
A lover caught eternally in a chase
The excitement of quickened heartbeats is a gift that death cannot purchase
Loving a world that came together for a man dragged on the aisle
Who I be, so asked the man loved beyond his rank and file
Finding causes that unite pulses
Let’s talk about infants being trekked to camp
While tongues may pour saliva that pitches darkness
Through ink, find illumination
Choosing hence to seek and become a lamp…
Akeem Oyalowo
April 11, 2017.