Poetry

Rising dust and falling ash

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The roads yonder

sometimes longer than we see

One life ahead; several follow

We’ve been told

of Heaven and Pearly gates

We’ve been told

of Earth and Satan’s mates

Of rising dust

and falling ash

The sound of a mortal train

calling from the morrow’s patch

and yet we press on

to beat death

out of its game

until we are never ready,

but taken.

Author’s Note: This poem is the result of some brevity poems I wrote for last Wednesday’s AfroBloggers Poetry Night #AbWPE on twitter. I merged some of the pieces together to get this longer poem.

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