I once saw a four year old on crutches he’s
managed to use pretty effectively he didn’t look invalid. (He’s not the boy in
this picture.) This poem is for him, if he would take a chance on life. I’m believing
he would. This is also for me. April 16’s my birthday.
I feel
my tongue loosen like a caged bird set free
As I taste
the first fruits of enchanted poetry.
Indulge
me for a sec., will ya? If you got the time.
Let me
transport you on the train of my rhyme.
Nudge
of inspiration breaks my paralysis,
Melting
my numbness, she lifts me above controversies.
Forgive
me if I dally a little too close to the lip of excess
But some
things get in your system and set you off on a tangent.
Nothing
succeeds like success
I should
know. I’m nothing if not a duty pageant.
I am
the drowning man clutching at a straw;
I am
the one who’s lost everything but what?
I’m still
standing.
I am neck-deep
in water but I still got that one straw
I take
the tiger by the tail and hang on.
People
often wonder where my strength lies
Often
surprised how I rode the lows to get to my highs.
I try
to make them see I’m no empty vessel
Their
faces tell they wouldn’t believe me if this was the gospel.
I am
walking upwind
The point,
I’d have you note, is I’m walking.
I have
parted the storm clouds,
And I’ve
seen the silver lining.
I
pledge allegiance to hope, here and now
To keep
coming every time I fall. Even when I’m crying
I’m
still standing.
There’s
a dream so real you can reach out and touch it.
I believe
this like I believe in the certainty of tides and sunrise.
I’ve
roamed the pits so long my fears became shallow,
And my
fascination with death shrunk to a shadow.
I am
the voice of one yelling from the hardpan;
I am
the strength of a dying, desperate man.
I put
up with the sting of rejection;
Stuck
out beneath the weight as I battled depression.
For several
years, I braced amazing disgrace;
I’ve
fallen down time and time and time again.
While I
may not be your prototype testimony,
My
story must have sprouted a tumor of memory.
Still stomping
. . .
Still counting
. . .
Still standing.
Akpan
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