BLACKENED

It’s only in the land of black,

Where I can hold my pen and scribble,

Scribble and write

And then be prepared to die

Die an accident death,

Or by that stray bullet meant to kill a running thief

Only in the land of black

Am I prepared to die,

Die for what I write

To die for what they believed in

For death is just but an owl’s song

And with death comes rest

But still I write

Under the hungered shelters

Of cold and endless heat

Pain and dead music

And bulleted holes in my matchbox home

But I write

Cautiously,

Then listen,

Listen for approaching footsteps

So I hide my papers

Under the torn mattress and sheets

I write again

Of hard core crimes,

Slaved women and kids

In a land of white they chose not

Of impunity and scandals,

I write names in the sand,

And scribble reality on my paper

I write

Of black tears

Shed in a black land

Seen and ignored

 Laughters…,

Smiles of the rich

Grins of the poor

Smirks of the underdogs

Feels right to write

Maybe the other side of black

A reincarnation of a lost hope!

But

I don’t want to die young

I too fear death

So I take my paper and eat

By Carolyn Gatonye

From my book excerpt..find me in my hidden lines...