Here is a whip;
Lie down for a hundred lashes on your body,
A thousand more on your soul, and
How you just lost the memory of
The sweetest kiss.
Here is a hand;
Bear its force on your face two times,
An earthquake on your mind, and
Oh, there goes the best friend
You met today.
Lost in the abyss of memory
Repressed, caged.
Here is a foot,
Let it kick you five times against this wall of steel,
Twice more against that wall of thorns, and
There goes the innocence of childhood
Locked forever in this bloody room
Where guardians murder the very soul of those
They’re entrusted to protect.
There goes sweet trust, and
Here come walls and walls and walls
That lock out:
The creeping sense of bewilderment seeking to surface,
The sweet innocent smiles of a sanguine heart; and
The leaping memory of endless laughter and joy
Of a frozen kerkede (hibiscus) summer afternoon.
There goes that kiss, sweet,
But wasted on these numb lips.
Here comes gloom,
Sadness, cages, thorns, and blood.
Flooding memories of the abyss.
And now you are your own guardian
Murdering your very own soul.
© 2018 Apuk Ayuel Mayen.
From a collection of poetry titled Kindred (p. 41-42).
http://www.apukmayen.com
