Society poem:Sounds of Drums

Soiled plain dresses billow in the wind,Whiffs of sweat a welcome note,The drums go on to echo in the hills
rwandan drummers.
rwandan drummers.

Soiled plain dresses billow in the wind,

Whiffs of sweat a welcome note,

The drums go on to echo in the hills

The dark suddenly comfortable

He couldn’t hear the noise

She couldn’t see the madness

‘Give me that rhythm,’ I mumble to myself

‘Throw it; heave it  my way’

‘Puncturing my hips’

‘Freeing me’

I spin for him

Feeding him the music on a platter

I feel him slip his hand in mine

The ground a myth I am accustomed to

We rush to our escape

Flying a painful flight

With stones and thorned bushes

We disappear into our realm

Grey and black, our shade

I still believe in your rays

Your senses, my adopted path

Soaking in the sights, you live for me

And I, swimming in the sounds of life,

We somehow mold our own maze

Deep into the night, we flee

I choose not to think; the fear alive in my depths

Until I hear your ragged breath

You could be a pauper, a social outcast

I couldn’t care less

How do I let you know?

You are the author of my joy

The sounds reverberate through the valley

I stop and swing free in the wind

Imagining the sky is watching me

The stars cheering me on

I feel his eyes drilling holes in me

A smile breaks free. I know he is enjoying the sight

That was my last night in the sounds of drums

The sounds of my childhood, the symbol of my home

We run off into the night, in search of acceptance

Hoping our grey and black would burst into a rainbow

A treasure we never attained

But a truth we have always believed for each other

 

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