Dec 17, 2016
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GRIEF by_Adelere Adesina_

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is his companion
close as pulse to chest,
even as hair to skin.

With a grave simper,
his life is fabricked;
his soul is nearer to grave,
bones of Lazarus.

is more delighting than ruby;
this stress
on joy is an ephemera.

From your days of young,
you’ve spooned empathy:
the steerer of your gladness
is happy as ghosts’ dirge:

they sing sweet as angels,
with oboe in whispers;
goosebump for tunes
unlike three wise men;
they sing at coffins;
but whose voice speaks them?

Their burning in light,
like his grief
hides their softness.
In the fibres between thread,
where light does not tamper,
both you and they lie pitying.“`

Adelere Adesina

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