Hugging sorrow


 
Twas painful hearing his return to the dust
Dust which moulded him
Sshiv…in no maze
I was amazed
Chewing midrib of neem leaves
Lacking tooth picks

Jay Chop Jay, no more
His wisdom washed to the dust
And his innocence and kindness
Eeei…my heart pains
Where to be retrieved?

Midribs added nothing to his diet
But the bitterness of poison
Habit would have spared him if they were friendly
My little wisdom was foolishness

He was urged to wash and watch
Before taking the stuff
Yet his love for it earned him poison
Ma’woou…gone with his white teeth
So I hug and kiss sorrow


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