Hope
Sighting it made me need it,made me long for it.
Ignoring the thorns as they pricked my flesh,
Paying deaf ears to the silent warnings of the
whispers of the cold night, I went for it.
The closer I got, the harder I fought to live.
Air rushed out of me, blood gushed out too, out of old my wounds.
Yet I knew I had to have it.
For in the dense patch of green that I have roamed in for so long,
I saw a bloom of yellow.
It was mine.
It was sent here to save me,
to save me from the endless abyss I had fallen into.
I needed to have it.
Hope.
I finally found it, I couldn't lose it.
My hands couldn't quite reach. I ran faster,
ignoring the sharp stones as they cut my feet.
Taking no notice of the slapping vines as they scarred my face, and bosom.
I wanted it, I needed it.
I fought hard. My right hand stretched out, longing...
But all attempts made were futile. The bloom of yellow didn't want to be stained by the darkness within me.
I lost, I failed.
Now I continue to fall, still hearing the mocking pity of the whispers.
The whispers that warned me
Poetry by Aniobi Chidinma Elizabeth
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Written on 2026-05-09 at 01:22
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