Poetry

‘Neath The Lucid Skies

by winds of ash and echoes

Spitting in the wind— generated image.

When in the heavens gaily we meet
reckoned not, by our candid ethos free
but in heart strings clung — softly to greet
betwixt poesies strung to harmonic glee

Plain, my sight hindered not by soot
vain, this land scattered but frailly thin
slanted notions — indiscreet — callously afoot
shunned — our sighs trivial, in equitable skin

My tongue, attuned not — to another’s
but a fierce mother’s tongue, trembles not
to decree a love whole — for all ‘n the other’s
tongue, fluently native, ‘n feebly wrought

Foolish — the love we do not succumb to.
flippant, the terrain we must pass thru.

Viraji Ogodapola ©March, 2025.