I Hate To Tell You

Emmanuel Uwe Etim

Emmanuel Uwe Etim

Monday 20 September 2021

When this fire burns, burns and burns then

Suddenly ceases to burn, pour its embers into

The mouth of an inflamed water.

I hate to strain the ticking ears of time,

I hate to be like another frustrated wife

Kicking the large testicles of life,

I hate to confess in the custody of a crowdless

Market,

That I'm no more that lion whose roar can resurrect

A buried decade,

That I'm no more like a breathing tomb wrapped

With the linings of Lazarusing flairs,

That my confidence now stutters like a stammerer

Called to argue guilt,

Knowing my personifications still

Till in the farm of poetry,

Knowing I still lay alone every cold nights

Cuddled by fantasies,

Knowing that the branches of my songs are

Pruned by the cutlass of what I don't know,

Knowing I still throw my calls open to the silo

Of fat famished homes,

I hate to tell you,

That, I do not know if i can confront

The gaints in these Intimidating days.

Etim Emmanuel Uwe