(i) Ceremony Of Chaos
my life has become like a field laced with land mines —
and this, surely, is a potential catastrophe.
and it’s not that I’m unconcerned,
just that I can’t help stepping on, and setting off the heart-wrenching
grenades buried under this sorry field —
one by one, every day!
it’s like all my break of day is an explosion
and a blast of remorse reminds me of my night.
every step of every day is a step closer to what seems like my demise
and I’m left with the troubling fact that my life has become but a ceremony of chaos.
maybe I’m wrong,
maybe I’m not.
yet at times I feel like just lying at the entrance of this field
and watch it fade away growing nothing,
or walking on all the land mines
while every last one of them explodes to my face.
perhaps if my fears and insecurities were to explode to oblivion too,
I’d be given a second chance to return to this field, and turn it into a beautiful garden.
(ii) Petrified To Make Amends
I should’ve drowned my troubles in alcohol,
but liquor is an ocean that has no depths —
they’d only sink for a few hours and
swim out later, fiercer and scarier.
truly, my worries have had the luxury
of attending swimming masterclasses
and shopping for all the wardrobe necessary for survival at sea,
so that if my drinking added more depths,
they’d still face the torrent and survive the tide.
so I’m plagued with the reality that
my pain killer wouldn’t come from a bar,
and I fear that if I stop, if I quit the obsession to drown my darkness,
I might only get messier making up for my mistakes.
About the Author
Charles Nnanna is a poet who was been shortlisted in a Wakaso Poetry Prize and longlisted in Syncity Poetry Competition, 2020. He is optimistic about his pen making an impact in the world.