I speak English and French,
But the language of my destiny,
Is spoken by the celestials.
Pondering the ideologies,
of my past times,
Like peeling old wounds.
Just to bleed again,
I learned to let go,
For destiny is inclined.
To the fate we were born by,
Life is a costume party,
I show up with my real face.
My blood a manure to trees,
Her bones a nutrient to roses,
That will bear the fruits.
Fruits of freedom,
From this caged world,
The cage seems full.
Let us all out of this party,
As we soar like Icarus,
We pray the wings do not melt.
Joshua Omeke is a mercurial writer from Nigeria. He has been nominated for several awards and has other skills in Art aside writing.
