When finally on my death bed I lie
Etherized by love’s final deed of breakage,
Sit next to me, slithe open my veins and
From their drying ponds draw ink of my blood,
and in angelic handwriting, write what I say thence:
That I loved you and always longed for you,
That everyday I searched for you and yet
You were as near to me as the air I breathed.
That, every time I called, to you it was nigh
And you hid in the ridges and never saw high,
That my heart’s affairs weren’t yours to meddle with,
That I was a mere child of innocence and knew love not.
When heavily I breathe, the last attempt to stay alive,
Lay down your tool of confession with a faint elliptical pause!
Look you in my face for traces of your betrayal and deceit,
Hide not from the many eyes that shall read my death upon you,
And whence I leave, add not you your own ordeals and confession
For when I professed love, cared you less to openly ejaculate words,
Mute you were until its cancerous biting enlarged in my heart.
This, therefore shall make up for your selfless deed of denial,
And shall you, with your handwriting inscribe upon my gravestone:
“A heart so vile and innocent, died in love for no love; killed,
Yet by self-deception committed suicide for unreturned love!”
MUSEMA EDMOND VUNI JR (July, 2022)
The MCI Torch 