The Hallways weep at night

A Poem

By Nomthandazo NXABELA

The hallways are full
with souls at night,
who weep for dreams
they buried too soon.

And I, listening,
find myself as an empty suitcase,
a mould of dreams
scented by the dying aroma
of yesteryear’s mothballs.

I cannot tell
Between them or I
whose luck it is:
Those who find themselves awake and empty
or those who have travelled into the great beyond,
But weep eternally
For they realize
that perhaps ‘tween Mt Zion
and the dust of the Earth
they never found home

The hallways are full at night:
An aching ode to a loved one’s bravery.
Oh! May you remember into your next journey
Remember to travel light.