HEZRON WANGI JR
An entry in The Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry
No amount of time can gather regret,
That is glum and deep but hasn’t happened yet.
Such sweet sorrow and loneliness over whom I cannot see.
Rustic love, hewn true- Where she is my heart will be.
My dreams of her torment me by night.
She- with no name, face nor heart but yet alive.
What devilry possesses my heart in such foolish plight?
Reticent, her gaping mouth holds no words- a queen in my hive.
She has me at her whims, what folly she calls love.
Pygmalion am I, no myth can lure out the truth,
That I am in love with a conjecture of thin air, by Jove!
Bitter am I to life, why am I plagued by this dark sooth?
Alas! I am of age, weary but firm,
Life’s zephyr eased me to her bosom.
She is what my sweet torments portrayed to term.
I trust her not, lest she be a mirage- a morning blossom.
Blessed be the Creator for granting me time.
The cold glance of heaven mirrored me warm affection,
She is here no more an aberration- most sublime,
The reality of it all in more words of fiction.
Where she is my heart no longer beats.
Beyond the grave she calls me upon her very breath.
Past Hades’ gates, past Olympus’ heightened feats-
I have found her and love whence comes death.