Poems by Nancy Ndeke
TOOLS AND RULES
Where the hand ends and sword begins,
The pen doused in blue sky to tell of brown Earth,
The mouth is an unruly child if unchecked by pruned sound bites,
Medals wearing the men with frenzied fever for the incorrigible,
Media swaying and stumbling home drunken from withdrawals of opiate misgivings,
Metallic taste duelling with forced bends and cajoled turns,
Old Pillars, cornerstones and foundations have come on air to die,
The funeral pyre of truth cackles without incense or attempts at innocence,
Up there, with made faces and shaped moustaches,
vanguards of short changed harem preach the shallow misdeeds of life with gusto,
Down here, legions fold in ruckus at the ease of squeeze of gullible gulps of sold lies,
Divisioning has always been a tool to fool the cool,
It’s still applicable sad as it is,
Till we remember that TOOLS come with rules for a reason.
Between waking up after a nightmare and reliving it in the days to follow,
A speck of a sparkle must be rekindled to bring old embers to life,
Our world hurts from mistakes made and careless abandon of right,
Our days shrink from missing laughter and divorced joy,
Moments flow with tears of those hope flies above grasp,
A prayer here and there, a mask and sanitizer at hand,
A vaccine for those its avail and a food stamp for the starving,
And hope in its flighty feathers flatters amidst aghast of gasping breath,
Yesterday may come back from this flooding of burst systems and begging bowls,
Hoping against hope that this lesson of humanity heaving under chagrin threat,
Shall inform the unborn the divine blessings of extending a hand to the limbless,
Wealth is poor if its neighbour is unhealthy.
Its something a poet thinks about amid own prison yard.
From the fragility of life in dependent care and nurturing,
From seeds dying to live,
Lessons and tutorials abide,
From egos of emperors and eventual falls,
From matyres who fell to rise as heroes,
Lessons and tutorials abide.
From the breath of the wind eternal,
From cycles of moon tides and fertility of love,
Lessons and tutorials abide,
To say the desert is coldly deadly in it’s heat,
Or the mountain unforgiving in it’s Craig’s and cliffs,
Is to miss the giant lessons of humble being-ness,
Unable and unwilling to bow to a power above our own.
Life is no competition neither is it a race,
It just is in it’s quest for breath of sunshine,
For the numbered days of flesh before it too,
Becomes fodder for the next crop of life.
To live, to experience, to feel, to know,
To weigh, to question,to bargain, to accept,
That dark days have a sneaky way,
Of ambushing even the most secure,
That burdens can be an overnight infliction,
And that life can be unpredictable to a fault,
Such a time when little tallies and much begs,
Across the table of kinship with fear in between,
House coldly demarcating smile territory with masks,
Muffled greetings and hands off hugs dissary,
Hope can be a cruel thing to hang on but it’s all we have,
When nothing else makes sense of companionship and communal tags,
We ride the storm and hope for the best,
As utmost care of self guarantee another’s survival.
Perhaps it’s the season of lessons of how connected we are,
For our old divides and biases have spared none in their aloofness.