POETRY

 


HURT LION

 

i'm now a wounded lion, teetering on the thread of life

of passion — wasted years & shattered dreams

as i inhale the smell of oppression,

my nostrils revolt, gasping for air

for life captured in metals

i am a display of beauty in this horrible garden

bearing angles of sorrow

sorrow that last

i sing to freedom

when sleep comes to me

the imprisoned lion’s roar is as

vain as the whisper of a bird

singing on the tree

weakness eats into my femur

and it sinks into a forgotten

land of thorns

 

 






the poem will feature in a forthcoming anthology in October, 2024. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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