Friday, 6 June 2010

Page 12 of 23

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Grip

I just laid there
my grip became weak               and weaker

stab wounds engulfed my torso
creating a red cross, so

I just donated my blood
to the cracks in the pavement

my child’s stuffed animal hit the floor
as he gripped my cold hands, making them his new teddy bear

the footsteps of my killer echoed
away                silent whimpers amplified

it’s crazy,
A man with nothing to lose,

can take everything away from
a boy with so much to learn

a father
they say before you die,

can hear a soft song
in the background

a voice
daddy, please wake up

come on dad, I want to go
home…

I…       I just laid there
each opening, a pair of crippled lips

sang the melody of dripping blood
and a fading grip.

 

By: Olaposi Omishope

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