Tribute

I am the shadow at your feet

with fear and photos

somersaults and screams

and torn up dreams

dragging you, as you look down

you see only the dark reflection of yourself

I am just an invisible space

between history and memory.

Africa is tired, a deserted house

insomnia plagues endless nights

and liberation wars

strewn with brittle bundles of bones

but, for us, it is a country of silkworms

Sunday nights, guitar lessons

tennis clubs, sticker albums

small, not beautiful

bleak and beloved.

lovely light bright light shines on

fists and frowns inside beds

pillows swallow peaceful breaths

casting dreams, of demons

trolls, ballerinas prancing

the perfectly positioned sheets

and polished school shoes

for tomorrow

then there are nightmares

throwing voices of anger

scaring the darkness

surviving, bleeding between us

in the silence

tired terror screams from memory

painful angels

fluffy and furry

fall on splintering

sharp cornered nightly raids.