by Ibrahim Bidu
I try to rise
Though feebly I finally manage.
I stick my right foot out
It recoils shyly,
Drawing a curse and a swear
That I have no strength to utter
I push the left forward:
Creaking, grumbling it goes
A step I manage to take at last.
I wish I had not stepped out at all.
It seems cold,
I wish I had borrowed a coat,
And at least a torch
That I would have shone.
The road ahead seems long,
I see a mountain just on the horizon
My feet are bruised thanks to the potholes
And the slip down that damn valley
Has left my back in bad shape.
But why didn’t I choose to stay?
So the mountain and unseen valleys
This time I can afford to miss.
But up to my feet struggle
I look back
The desire to get back
To familiar ground grips my heart.
But the desire to see what’s ahead this counteracts.
Just behind the mountain,
That impedes my vision;
Just beyond that valley;
After this potholed stretch
Is a smooth stretch spurs me on
The smooth stretch that would help me get
To the Promised Land I guess