Our kind of pain

Our kind of pain is obscene

A broth of pride, revenge, relief and sadness

This dolor bellows, it swells day and night
It’s of anger, anguish, disappointment, desertion.
Our pain is silent; it’s our enigma

Daily, we submit everywhere, we bruise our knees,  bruise our pale foreheads

but the grief is a tick.
Our kind of pain perturbs, and no one feels it but us;
And who are we, the us, I mean?
Some say it’s the diaspora, but some insist that it’s those in the stew;
Whoever it may be, I know that the caustic aggro befalls all.
Because it’s us, it’s our nation, a withering foliage.

Children can’t play in the streets; schools shelving.

Men are mice; perturbed by the off-color remarks.

Our homes are deserted, families  like chicken in rain.
Our kind of pain extorts the last saps as we near the inauguration.
Our pain, this twinge slays
But you don’t care about it,
If you’re not us; the disintegrating polity.

Advertisements

Published by

Edrissa Ken-Joof

The author is a Ph.D. candidate majoring in Management at Yuan Ze University, College of Management, Taiwan. He has a master's degree in International Affairs and Security Management from Ming Chuan University, Taiwan and a bachelor's degree in Political Science and English from the University of The Gambia.

8 thoughts on “Our kind of pain”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s