…a poem by Sena Quashie
Listening to my alter ego
I forget my wishes
It is not nice
When the choking gray blue
Of that life sentence
Under the yoke of the wind
Is not a choice
But he must be wise in praying
He, who relies on the Grace of God
Be my last friend standing
Though the mistral blows right
You have the soul of a poet
And you’re crazy enough to ignore
The season of threat
Where your solitude partied
I only did look at the sky
As they quickly spent
The hours of Christmas.
But in the darkness of my eyes
Nobody came
Only last night I was lost
In your kiss
But with our heart sleeping
Who do you take with you?
These walls are too conciliatory.
And your disobedient wishes
Are parties to dawn
In there wanders a poem
Which reflect on the gems
Was it in a dream
Or was it in the waking day
That I thought I heard clear silence