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Read Time:1 Minute, 36 Second

(i) burned

Photo source: Gallery Twenty Seven.

she turned around,

where small girls

hinted on walking to the hillside

and found a burned

animal, washed away

is its bone marrow

forgetting not a braise

she turned to last night.

after chilling cheerios

she turned to a bizarre night

and desired

so much morning to know

how her hands were burned.

how her freedom began today

and walked back knowing

her burned cocoon

has yielded into good seedlings,

fond of keeping peace within.

(ii) A sad poem tonight

Photo source: Pinterest.

I need to know why i am not real,

why my outside does not reflect the inside?

my body carry lamps of slavery

and called them beauty,

i know little bit of imperfection alacrity pushes

me into,

writing poetry is one of them.

who is not ready to tickle darkness

with his fingers,

my thoughts give me lust for something visible,

placed on the table,

made to burn on my skin,

rasped on my tongue

yet my soul in its existence is an everlasting fire.

i know killing love in me was not the beginning

of disgrace,

some started falling on my toes like dry leaves

and smashed them to winds and dust,

it’s through[true] that my dreams were murdered

but today as i look for ways

it’s because i lost my roots during infancy.

god shield me from backwardness of last night,

i know this heart speaks when darkness sneak

into my eyes,

it’s always restless like sun and stars,

like death and shadow who are fond

of following me to the underworld.

i felt some touches tonight

for god’s sake only

my lights will illuminate

when i remember this sad poem tonight

and jot down the last line,

that begins with rain falling inside my heart.

About the Author

Riak Marial Riak, is a South Sudanese poet and writer. He can be reached at riakmariald@gmail.com.

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Writer, editor and reader. A student of mathematics and physics, Twitter troll, Facebook comedian and human.

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