Kola Tubosun

 

Here, Moving

 

Oh what to give to move the bridge, even Christ spoke alike.           

A human bond which though we feel we cannot reach beyond.

Once false, once real. It stretches through a burning filial bond,

just like a mile of rage sewn thin astride a path of spikes.

 

Look deep and you might glimpse what tired eyes have spied

If only you would peep from here you'll see how much I've tried.

It's nothing now like was before though still the sparks remain.

The paths across the hedge of dreams we call our own restrain.

 

Do not blame for a life badly spent, badly lent. No I don't.

Only worry, for me. The map is lost which brought me there.

Time will tell, maybe to slit the dream and show what's hidden here:

A rolling stone, falling, failing, as it climbs a winding mount.

 

Our hope rides on the rough rage astride this path of spikes.

 

 

"Here, Moving" by Kola Tubosun, winner, Sentinel Poetry Bar Challenge, October 2006.