By Timothy Bamwita, Uganda:
A reincarnated creation, I am.
Unfortunately reawakened at the same fort
Only nemeses and dismal strangers surround me.
Solace in estranged old comrades I seek,
But pretense and mockery they exude.
The quaint and enchanted warmth I expected fade away
As fate and misery seem the new reality.
To my maker, I protest.
At my worries and dreams, he laughs
Whilst he smokes away his last fag.
A looming shadow hangs over me
But onto hope, my soul lingers
As I trudge through this ominous darkness – faint hearted.
The future, I remember.
And to it, I walk shamelessly on stilts –
With wounded pride and a broken smile:
Walking into blessed oblivion, I hope –
For optimism drives me and in the wounded pride,
All my energy anchors; in pursuit of a definite resolve.
With distended feet and a discernible weary face,
To a paradise, I shall soon arrive.
Only wry bliss beneath my broken smile
To possibly show for the heavenly specter
As God perhaps wryly smiles back.
That – my soul is where we belong old friend, I say!
But before that, many rivers to cross, good mate!!! – My soul rejoinders.
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