Poem by Jonathan Chibuike Ukah
When the earth was the sky, and I lay on a pile of sunflowers, I had the right to sleep beyond dreams, the favour to have the visit of the sun at midnight as my body curled in a fur sleeping like a log of wood in the forest. I didn't know there was a difference between what I should have and what I should not be entitled to; I did not know that a rose was not a lily, or a dandelion different from a chrysanthemum; I never knew that a grave was not a garden where daisies flourished like a rose by a river, though the river dried up and the desert grew into the thickest forest where streams congregated. Now, my body must sing itself to hope if it must not be still, waiting for the hour when my dreams will be mounting a horse and galloping towards the crest of my life; I have the bravery to recover from my loss, the hope to bury this despair that nudged me into knocking on the doors of every house which harbour all my dreams of yesterday. I look through the opaque window where a heart breaks open like a burglary to see the heap of my shattered soul stowed away in the vault of time and space. If time had passed, the days kept coming through the tiny spaces between now and tomorrow and there is a fractured part of me ready to receive whatever comes like a dream. I know that my breathing is not in time’s control but grace is available for those who lost those who receive double all their losses.
Jonathan Chibuike Ukah lives in London with his family. His poems have been featured and will soon be featured in Strange Horizons, The Fairy Tale Magazine, Atticus Review, The Pierian, Ariel Chart International Press, Boomer Literary Magazine, etc. He is a winner of the Voices of Lincoln Poetry Contest 2022.
