By Dzekashu MacViban
Friday, June 24, 2011.
Waiting for the Dawn
Sounds too often pierce the night
Of belonging and alienation, both inchoate here
Long’s the wait—the sun must break
The night’s back. Will you be too blind
To see the light like cavemen, or
Run to the horizon of a new day?
Many a vain dawn have I seen
Whose smile soon faded away—false alarm, alas.
We have chased off the heavens
And now sit cloudless
But the moon has helped us with
Our harvest, O moon
Time—a dangerous concept, full of tricks
I’ve been here before, not knowing
Who and what and where I am
A new comer on this lone road
See, a newly slain albatross
Lies at some length, shrieking in death breath.
This town is a freak show
Who will rid us of the Icarus Syndrome?
Dawn of flagellation, dawn of retribution
O dawn, how often had they mocked
Us in the waiting, doubting the vision that sees
What is not, yet is. Do not stray—
There is also suppleness, I must insist.
A suppleness that defies everything and explodes
With a loud bang… but lest we forget
It can implode to keep the balance.
Time is still—some necromancer’s trick
But we all know “some day for sure”
The harvest of thorns will give way
And we’ll be flooded with a harvest of plenty.
We wish only to rebuild, is that
Too much to ask…?
We wish only to rebuild the fragments
Of a second Divide and Rule
Our citadel has been hit
By changing preoccupations
As well as meteorite showers
I, too, have had moments of weakness
Gulped from the poisoned chalice
Danced the very dance I abhorred
I am my own worst enemy.
It’s darkest before dawn
A darkness so dense – void of dreams
But dreams dare to be
My dreams are hydra-headed, and O
I sing for you, out of space
And out of time.
Scions of the Malcontent
for Kangsen Feka Wakai
It all started with a dream thwarted
But being thawed was out of the question
Thus, the tumultuous years of inception cut across time
You have known them too,
Right? Those moments when angst
Was the unseen visitor, gelatinously gyrating
Those cold walls bespeak of defiance
(a toast to the muse of defiance
in this age of neo-auto-da-féism)
Why do these pseudo-inquisitors tremble
At the mention of our names?
Aren’t they supposed to be godly, unafraid of those they
Dzekashu MacViban is the author of a poetry collection titled Scions of the Malcontent, and his work has featured in Palapala, Saraba, African Writer, Aaduna and is forthcoming in Wasafiri. He lives in Cameroon and blogs at
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