Muted Dreams Poem by Simpa Omoluabi

Muted dreams denies us
our inheritance in stout patches;
and the Lord knows
that I am aware of a lotus
in recess with certain birds
that shall filter salt and water
from the guide of the seven stars.

Like light and night alike conceive themselves,
colours, odours, voices, shapes and music
are latent with memories:
Out of the catacomb they come to haunt,
I must have lived another life, for I get visions
out of the conception of the ordinary.

Now I do not wait them,
but I come to the sepulchres with eyes of the redeemed
and I say to them: allow the celestial
behind the entangled crows
break upon this face,
that that plough which leavens by it
come out grained with grace
from the winter of denial.

For I come now and shall again and again
panning grace from the catacomb.

Copyright © 2010 Muted Dreams by Simpa Omoluabi