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Wage

by Oladejo Abdullah Feranmi

 

And for the many of the few/
who's been employed by grief,/
our job here is not to die./
We must learn to out-wage/
these souls and inflate our hearts/
enough to contain our joy/
and sorrows at once. Because/
we once held life and let it go./
For we, like the trees, tell nothing/
of autumn to summer. We are/
an embodiment of season and fall/
it is, we know best. We did not/
get sacked, we resigned trying to/
figure out the form of magic/
our hands know about and these/
figures cannot outline them into days/
into months or a forever they seem/
to know or a forever they seem/
to guess at but none of that matter/
when your heart is a mosaic/
of shattering—even your prayers/
are filtered into god's ear./
And your wishes are sprinkled/
like stars in your dreams./
But there is always a corner,/
like the end of an unfinished page,/
with dawn waiting for your fingers./
 

Oladejo Abdullah Feranmi is a Writer, Haikuist and a Veterinary Medicine student from Nigeria. A Thomas Dylan Shortlist and A Pushcart Nominee, He reads submissions at Sea glass literary magazine and edits for the incognito press. His works are published in Gone Lawn, Hooligan Magazine and more. He tweets from; @tinybecomings


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