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| Ebele Uche-Nwakile |
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User votes:  / 1
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Chapter #: 12
Updated On: 13 September 2005 - Words Count: 149 - Number of Reads: 392 |
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Being A Picasso
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How can I write for Chinua
in a muffled voice
and have you believe
that I'm Okigbo
risen from the dead.
While I shy away
from the high table
full of chief priests
and priestesses of the written word.
As I bleed
from each opening unknown to me,
I am reminded of Neffertiti
and Cleopatra of the Nile.
As flies descend on my body
to bear witness to the decay,
I am excited by the division I see
happening inside of me.
I am here now in the flesh,
agonizing through the pain of
discovery and truth.
While my soul launches
through the baricades
seeking peace from mother nature
and fathers of the Inkwell.
I have chosen,
as I did the day of my birth
to remain a part of you,
members of the high table
representing the future
in the service of my ancestors. |
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LITERARY 
