Never So Old Yellow In The Land Of The Forgotten Poem by Silivester Kiik

All day and night
I sincerely save words
that are slowly being lost to time.

A grim face picking up semicolons
that generations drop when they want to read
like a fruit that never becomes dark yellow
in an arid land that is forgotten.

My village and town have become dry and alien
hunger and thirst are celebrated every week
shadows of rhymes scattered on window panes to walls
seeking shade - begging for a hug
when the rain is away and everything is mute before time.

To whom is the complaint entrusted?
Is there a sob rolling clear from his eyes?
indecisively grasped - when unfinished rhymes slapped both cheeks
and blossomed on the tree of his heart.

Atambua,10 March 2024