Retreating mother
You lap at my ankles
This bittersweet dance we keep stepping to
But now it is my turn to do the standstill
an unmovable force
pent up solutions
Raising arms
I pay tribute
to these shrinking horizons
filling up with all these foreign investments
to our priorities & supposed betterments
unequal in shared values
helplessly looking down at her worn hands she lifts tear drunk eyes unable to feel even a wisp of this new coming golden age of better days as a small portion of the masses are drunk on the better life and she’s stuck barely able to provide for the three joys of her life aged 2, 11 & up and it pains, how it pains her as she cries in outrage…
shores chocked
receding waves revealing debris
from this speeded up need
be at par with the elite’s game
all the while forgetting our forefathers fight in vain
mother I stand at your banks to meditate
I’ve outlived this need for patience
fed up with this younger generation
how they choose to wake up from this illusion
caught up with the schooling
al chix
family expectations
gossip mills
shackled to cubicles
wasting away bright minds
out-spoken he is the voice of our restless youth, soft-spoken bringing out the best in whomever listens, weaving his words with ease through facts & lies the following affects are of active truth yet he is tied down to the absurdities of what we call ‘life’, so content disregarding his potential in bringing so much light…
mother do not bother to lull me with your sweet sad lullaby
subject yourself to this inexcusable sense of disillusionment
But I bear witness
Will stand through the inescapable finale of this
even battle my jaded self
Yet in my heart
… mother I’m sick with disappointment