Abiku

I am here,

righting the wrongs of my past,

I was here,

I lived,but short

I died, but here I am
I came

I lived

I died,

Here’s a toast,

A toast to my rebirth
I am loathed

Hated, yet I come happy

Bringing bliss in tear drops each time,
Before my waking days, I died

Rekindling burnt candles of yore
© Maureen Alikor

Broken, but alive

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You were and is still broken
Yet you breath
And walk,
I am shattered; more than broken
I am disheveled; trampled and tattered.

I sit amidst ruins of my heart
In her bits and pieces,
Yet a tiny glint lives on.

You were all shades of pain
Tied to the ankle by the ropes of past hurts,
I am pain; drenched in the mud of laughter,
stomped upon by those inhumane
And hurting too.

We bear same wounds
We walked same paths

We bear our hurts as our cross,
To the golgotha of tomorrow, we painfully lift
Joseph of Arimethia was a good fellow,
Yet our hope of finding Joseph is dashed
Each time we reach out for help,

A repeat comes, though dressed in help’s clothing
With the last of our strength, we let it in
Only to be buttkicked right where our fresh wounds still breathes

You were broken,
So was I,
We brought our half filled selves to the table of love,
We ached within
We bleed within
Our clenched fists, wanting to be held,
Our panic-stricken hearts, seeking to be consoled,
Yet, drenched in the pain we’ve been served,
We serve joy
And love on a gold platter
Knowing it’s all we have.

That glint flickers every mili second of the way,
Maybe healing is here,
But how are we to know,
If we still shut ourselves in, clutching the keys tightly to our bosom.