A Poem
By Owam Ntlemeza
I am who I am
because you are
who you are.
Stern voice scolds like hot oil,
burns, bruises, rings true as a flame
piercing the night
after misdeeds have wrung
the last shards of sunlight
from my body.
That’s when the world induces something
I despise. I find
that all I know is wrong.
A bush bursts with orange flames
because it has tasted
careless sparks.
From gnarled roots
a wild world is founded.
The hypnotizing full moon is reduced
to a white shadow. Under
the cold moonlight
sparks burn in my mother’s eyes.
And then she laughs away the pain
with love that transcends me.
Another token of forever.
