I Shall Rise Again - Poem by Dave BenOdafe
My soul is sorrowfully vexed unto death.
My strength ebbed, with dwindled health.
Like a docked ship, I toss'd in my bed at night,
Eluded of sleep. A troubled mind so slight,
Weigh'd down below the bellows of anxiety
My eyes bloodshot, I struggl'd thru' my days in sobriety.
The poverty of my body, hindered the scheme
Of chasing my dream.
With an amputated Spirit, I ran with pace.
But slumped on the track, unable to finish the race.
My armor pierc'd by deadly arrows
I bleed thru' a thousand pores of my marrow,
But no soothsayer did me forewarn,
To 'beware of the ides of March' lest I be forlorn.
With a mortal wound that could not heal
I watch that which struck my Achilles' heel
Bathe its hands in my blood,
As the murderers of Caesar did his crimson flood.
Like a lamb led to the slaughter,
I fell helpless, hurting on ev'ry quarter.
A heart once braved now made weary
From doing battle on many dreary
Front. Rejected by my folks, I fought alone
My rank flank'd by my many adversaries
With no allies to send a troop,
No battalion to regroup;
I launched the onslaught.
Bequeathed by nature,
An inferiorly endowed creature,
The weakness of my body defects
Slowly my mind infects.
Suffering from a fault I committ'd not
An object of men's pitiful plot.
Disadvantaged from conception,
I was sired to lose, sired to stumble from inception.
With the odds stalk'd against me not abating,
The bitter taste of losing ev'rything;
Consum'd me. My weak heart traumatizes.
But out of this chaos, shall I build a paradise.
As my sore soul quits not,
Out of this ash, shall I arise a phoenix.
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