Photo source: Willory

Open letter to you in a cartwheeling silence

I know you’re lying in the bed that thorns your skin,

Hewing your soul like laces of a shoe.

You’re tired, cannot climb that tree…

Your skeleton is adapting to weaknesses.

But scrub away the leeches that hang on your head —

Till the Hurly-burly is over.

When your heart staggers at its heaviness and

moans with a voice of your situating predicament,

Look up and find hope–tethering from grace–to grab

onto.

Life is hard to live, but, don’t die—

God will be angry with you, and me, for letting you.

I may not be your savior, but an Angel is a prayer away.

Don’t find solitude in that silence and aloneness,

Reach for the sky and let the breeze blow your pain away.

About the Author

U.A Edwardson is an emerging writer/poet from Ahoada, Rivers State, Nigeria. His works are forthcoming on African Writer, Wax Poetry and Art, and Praxis Magazine. His hobbies are more than his life can carry.

Omotayo Jones
obinnajones5@gmail.com
An addict with the pen. A student of mathematics and physics, Twitter troll, Facebook comedian and all-round human.

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