LAVENDER AND OLIVE

LAVENDER AND OLIVES
"the harvester's prayer is to find the house empty, ready to burn"- Adedayo Agarau

our garden sheds it's leaves before summer. in summer, gather hope and miseries; we place songs on our lips as whistles.

if you hear the trees humming, the birds are counting the number of twigs that will nurse their young ones.

if you must forsake your past, add a bottle of olive to your prayers.
mum joins her hands in prayers. a goldfinch is by her window, yellow, nibbling tunes like pipes.
             i hear her yell my name.
i wonder if she was yelling at me or her God.
             in this poem, death is holding a grain sickle. like a man on a mission, he sets his gaze only on a body set for ascension; leaving many on the street.
            the harvester's false truce awaits when the wheats are gathered.
the tares are ready to burn.