Tales Of The Road

by Eunny 9 years ago 👁 1,003 views ❤ 89
Under the scorching midday sun,
My limbs lie numb.
I desperately whip flies away from the deep wound on my right leg,
Denying them the chance to devour the tasty meal.
The flies move from the wound to the tray of fish,
No, not fish, bony structures in form of fish,
That I struggle each day to sell.

During the day, the sand- you cannot understand,
Is like needles in my eyes,
Ants in my nostrils,
Cobwebs in my chest.
It is everywhere.
I eat bread and crunch on grains,
I gulp down water,
And grit gets stuck in my throat.
I cough so hard my head could detonate,
Tales of the Road.

A sleek car drives by and stops,
And as the window is lowered,
An elegant man, casually smart,
Broad shoulders, killer smile,
Beckons me.
Pulling my tray up, I hurriedly head for the car.
An exchange of pleasantries occurs,
I try too hard to force a smile,
Of which I fail terribly,
Because this is a long gone emotion to me.
But as the minutes count,
The back door opens and I slip into the car.

They drive off,
I can't help but wonder how lucky I am.
I realise that my mum's spirit is watching over me.
I start counting my blessings,
Lost in the serene ambience,
In a dream come true,
In a lofty car amidst laughters.
I see clear walls around me,
The voices around me slowly fade off.
My eyes are suddenly heavy,
I think I've found happiness,
And I slowly will myself to sleep.

Startled by the sound of croaking frogs,
I struggle to open my eyes.
Am lying by the road side,
And as I try to sit up,
A sharp pain shoots up in my groin.
I can't move,
My legs are tied and heavy,
The air smells like untanned leather,
My dress is shattered,
And there's blood all over me.
"Holy Heavens", I manage to let out a whisper.

I crawl myself towards home,
A village where dogs will not stop to take a piss,
Leaving trails of evidence behind.
It is night already.
My body wrecking in pain,
I remember my mother's words,
And soak myself in a basin of warm water,
And as the water sips into the fresh inflicted wounds,
Am sure they won't heal,
At least not in my head.
E
Let's tell the stories our way. Let them have it their way.

Comments (20)

  • Godiah Rocky Imbukuleh 9 years ago
    Nice poem. Painfully paints the everyday episodes, albeit, fractured of the crowded food markets and the determination of young people from poor families to make it through the day.
  • Zoka 9 years ago
    evils in the society
  • Eunny 9 years ago
    Yeah Godiah. Very practical situation.<br />@Zoka, very evil.
  • Charles 9 years ago
    You never dissapoint !!it's such an awe!!
  • Irene 9 years ago
    Thrilled by the truth in the poem. Creative piece Eunny.
  • Owilla Ceipha 9 years ago
    Nice piece
  • Eunny 9 years ago
    @Charles...I strive not to.<br />Irene..thanks a bunch super girl.<br />Ceipha...thank you.
  • Osman 9 years ago
    Wow! That was complete.
  • Eunny 9 years ago
    Thanks Osman.
  • Osman 9 years ago
    Welcome
  • Ben 9 years ago
    Wonderfully artistic
  • Eunny 9 years ago
    Thank you Ben.
  • William 9 years ago
    Am very move piece,am impressed
  • Eunny 9 years ago
    Thanks Masila
  • Nel 9 years ago
    nice flow of events. Fantastic work Missy.
  • Eunny 9 years ago
    Thanks Nel.
  • Brenda Breey 9 years ago
    This really touched me.nice writing Euny
  • Eunny 9 years ago
    Thanks Breey.
  • Daughty 9 years ago
    eish mummy nice one
  • Eunny 9 years ago
    Thanks Daughty.