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The Breath Of Chance

I hear drums of war:
Drums, they strike, “Tum!”
Thundering,
Daring my withins to stand
The trembles,
Trembles, before, I could not bear;
Why would I dare now?
Stand?
On what ground? That yet
Trembles with the nearing
O’, the nearing, thundering,
“Tum!”?
With what feet? With what soles?
That yet scurry through
The darkest
Of pits? O’, the drums are terror,
And terror
Is a massive blanket;
A blanket of suffocation…
I could hold my breath, summon
My guardians of life, but breath,
How it fails me! How it leaves me
Frail; how it frees, sets loose
Gates,
O’, the gates of the hades, the ends,
They meet
Where the lips mum,
Where nostrils
Seal dear breath off,
O’, what is this the drums do!
No justice beyond injustices!

I saw darkness, and darkness
Upon itself, and beyond the blackness,
Sprang light; how swiftly I mistook
The glimmer
For hope! O’, dear hope
That withered.

When the drums died down,
And my withins were at rest,
Of eternal, light shone—
Distant, brighter, steadier,
For introductions—
Peace, its name, and gratitude
For the pulse that yet grew,
Pulse after pulse,
And unlike the ” Tum!”
Of the drums of terror,
It was the gift of chance.

“Gratitude!” A frail I,
O’, poor, little thing,
Squeezed air, out through
The mums of the lips,
And the nostrils, once sealed,
Now filled
With the breath of chance.


Benie Writes is back!


Photo by Matt Sclarandis on Unsplash

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Categories: Poetry

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Benie Langat

Benie is a poet and fiction writer, living in Nairobi, Kenya. He shares thought-provoking discussions, and occasionally does spoken word poetry and plays. Benie is also a freelance content and article writer. A dreamer, he realizes a world of possibilities through stories and explores life in poetry.

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