Personal Sermon

Kwach Abonyo

I know this feeling, I have had this feeling before 

I know the comforts, the placidity it yields 

With their potent, clean blade of satires 

They chop pathos into cruelty, dubiety into actions 

Listen to how it urges me into a chance, now or never! 

Volition, I can hear the whispers. Volitions! 

I remember them, they’ve run here before 

Tearing asunder the accords binding the soul and mind 

Here, they boast of the utility they bequeath me 

Chary, here, I must be, and slow I must tread 

Forasmuch I owe the better of me to them 

Collect these fragments and mend them back 

For you’ve lost yourself, broken and scattered 

And for once let you speak as you, dear self! 