So many of my kind
Have passed away like
Countless nights before sunrise.
They were full of talents
And dreams.
When they slept, I mean
The last sleep when no one
Bothers to tap them again.
Their talents and dreams
Enriched the soil.
No wonder flowers look,
So colorful and smell nice
When our talents and dreams
Are the nutrients.
Sometimes I lose my breath,
While breathing, my glass
Running low.
I’ve had so many bottles of hope
I’ve drunk countless glasses
Full of hope.
I’m so full of it that it pours
Like a fountain when I talk.
It is the belt to Kilimanjaro‘s peak,
Where someday we would stand
To see 54 nations glowing like
Diamonds.
Image credit: Alexi Chivir-ter.
By Elijah Christopher
Elijah Christopher is a journalist at A New Touch Of Africa, is also a creative writer, a poet, and an IT enthusiast. He contributed to the collaborative poem written in celebration of Edwin Morgan Centenary, the first Glasgow poet laureate and Scottish national poet from the University of Glasgow. He loves meeting people and learning about new places, cultures, events, and lifestyles.
