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Jọkwa Poetry

You shall be free indeed

On Healing

With words i loved
With words i loved
With words i loved you who loved me first
With words i touched
With words i touched
With words i touched you who touched me first
With words i took
A heart not mine
With words i stole
A love not mine

With words i broke
With words i broke
With words i broke a heart not mine

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and when she rained,
no ocean could contain her

distance strengthens the heart.
it infuriates the loins,
but strengthens the heart.

Nigeria

Along her Fault lines

Along widening fault lines
she remains a threat to her integrity;
in a constant state of stress
friction across her thighs
holds her rocks together
so they do not slip immediately
when pushed sideways

Run your fingers along her many
many fault lines and you too will ask
How long will she survive like this?

She just could outlive us all.

We leave
bits
and
pieces
of ourselves
in the things we love.
Fragmented,
we are
at peace.

Icarus was a romantic

He wanted so much to be close to that which he loved
He was not a stupid man
He was a man in love with Sunshine’s beauty
For her rays had kept him warm on those cold winter nights, gave him hope, and reassured him of the Almighty.

Icarus was a dead man who lived when he flew to touch the face of god
And just like most love stories
He got burned. Broken.
Wings , heart and man.
But he fell smiling
Knowing that his heart will forever be glad he got to know his love.
For unlike most men
He had dared to reach.

You miss it.
The wings that were constructed with feather and wax is a representation of the heart of a romantic
Light and delicate
But can liberate a man from his bondage.
Lift him to heights of joy he never could phantom

For what was he warned of
Risk flying too low and ocean: the suffocating dampness of common existence would consume his wings
risk flying too High and the sun: the giver of life would melt his wax
Icarus was stuck between god and the deep blue sea

Icarus chose wisely
He sought life. For he was dead. And what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind, and and seek the face of God unencumbered by feather and wax;

Icarus was a romantic.
Icarus was a wise man.
Icarus was between God and the deep blue sea.
Icarus chose God.

I want to be remembered as a man who was capable of great love

On Healing


I’ve always envied the birds

On Healing

I’ve always loved
broken things

I never tried
to fix them
But get them

to see the beauty
That sprouts from the crack.

Little wonder then why i love me so.

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