THIS CREOLE…

 

this creole you speak is but a mockery
Of the sin ladened brook, gushing from your tales

it’s neither the path you seek, now
nor the path i sought, once

For this creole upon my lips
speaks a thousand words unknown
in tribes of the virgin dawn
ruined by the gushing reddened dam
in tongues of fallen hopes
mocking dreams, sowed on rocks
On tongues of angels, in jaws of gods
raining upon your soul, bloody curses
in crackles of deflowered dusks
shaving realms beneath your chins
Drilling thorns, in your throat
sprouting down to your narrow pipes
Shoving shards of beautiful lies
down the putt you call home

this creole is your perdition
Your shame and ultimate ruin
Buried in a dose of hemp
lighting lost trails, in bellies of the woods

but if it is, the star lit path, i sought once, long ago
Then speak the creole heard, by all of men
by all that breathes and all that walks
speak with pride and raise your chin
Else speak the creole no one knows
in tongues of ghouls, and tongues of beasts
don’t move your lips or sound a word
Speak with shame and Bury your eyes

if this ruin you wish, to be your home
speak then the creole whispered to the winds
Of a conscience stealing night
in tongues deciphered by silence
in moans, in murmurs and hums

and when they want it straight and clear
say i am me, and you are you
we are the creoles and they, our tongues.

 

 

 

Maryam Gatawa is a young poet and a graduate of Economics from Bayero University Kano. She lives in Zaira Road, Kano, Nigeria. She is a passionate lover of arts. Some of her literary works have been published in the African Writer Magazine, PIN Quarterly Magazine, Tuck Magazine,The Arts Muse Fair, Kalahari Review, and local papers.

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