Dance Of Sorrow

In our state of sadness,
Where no joy is physical
And eulogies departed from our mouths,
Dance of sorrow we must dance.
For there’s no certainty of liberation.
Freedom has run swiftly away
To the top of the great hill.
Dirges are the only sources
To keep our stiff jaws moving.
What hope does one have,
When freedom needs freedom.
In defeat, expect nothing
But the worst.
And if death is approaching,
So be it.
For I know in that silent grave,
Sorrow can never reach me.
But before judgement is passed
Let the air be encompassed
With unlimited dirges.
All the emaciated bones
Need to be accelerated with dances
Originated from sorrow.

by Lekan Malik

Other poems of MALIK (29)

Comments (1)

Poignant ink.Beautifully done.Liked it.