This second coming
A POEM BY: ORIMOLOYE, ifeoluwa

The night is here and the moon is conscious,
Casting over me a shadow of gloominess,
Awaiting the return ticket,
At half mast, I had stood by the entrance of your heart,
Knocking, until the demise of my wrists,
Shouting, until the rotting of my tone,
My heart was at its best in despair, gullibility and vulnerability,
Quaking and shedding in fast, quick paces,
Mindless, you stared away from a distance, in comfort of the voyage,
But what can the righteous do, be that the bond is broken.

Here I am, Abike, still standing by the door of your heart,
Though enduring this bleeding of the heart,
But cowering in shame behind a finger,
Yet willing to be again signaled for this cohabitance,
To this time around make a mountain out of this molehill,
Rather than to make the molehill out of a mountain,
But this apathy of a mountain shall be reduced,
For, to the earth shall return the burnt offering,
Which shall thus be offered,
On the day you offer to pass my lane.