Fri, 06/24/2022 - 06:45 -- Creator

At 12 Oclock the day was darkly dark, the seafloor lifted itself in a loud cry, suddenly, a star fell like strings of light on a man. Knowing that there was a lifetime bond between Ali’s family it was a hard thing to affect them with the news of his death. But someone had to break the news to them, Dr. Neejem, in broken sentences, masked hints, and concealed half of the truth of all that happened to Ali Bandoras. A soul who met Seoul and brought unorthodox living to the palm of everyone's hands, tirelessly coaching them to find their roots in the faraway land they have come to. He was the only one who was blessed with the effrontery of being with a man who draws light of the moon near the seashore, relocated from his family house, and built a house for his family near the spot where the madness first took place and was made the father of the community.


Neejem saw it firsthand and soaked himself in the significance of what he saw. Loud silence broke in the land as everyone was filled with the joy or fear of abandoning his indoctrination, so the thermal degree of the earth's ears varied from person to person in doubt and belief of his death. Horrific tranquility filled every wall, rooftops each night whiffed of Ali’s soul, the aura of the community sank in exhaustion, that haunted her nature’s light, and guarded the soul of every mortal. New springs evaporated, delicious meals ceased their aromas, children stayed in the door, curfew was instructed, and the sky sang sad songs.


The pages of the chapters before that sang like the choir of Goldfinch, Canary, Blackbird, Nightingale, and Robin in a dirge, each time the ink caressed the leaves, in witnesses of the moody sky and moon crying bloody, like wine passionately crushed. Windows of dreams continue to open, too wide for the hearts of their audiences to contain, they burst each night in fear or tears all night for the land’s loss, with no one to give the other fortitude to bear their loss of Ali. Each time they spent greater parts of their days staring at the icon he built for the land, for answers, their seeking heart was only intelligent as the revelation and elevation of heaven bequeathed to them. Night and day were filled with suspensions and suspicions.


Few people felt his death was a good omen, most people did not understand why the belief of good men sacrificed for whatever the reason should reign. The best men from the Seer clan took an Exodus journey to bring meaning to the mystery in their land. They sought a young wanderer through sounds of aura, scents of soul, and spectrum of the sky’s direction to him. After the ocean, his bosom rose in sympathy to meet them in the camp where they chose to rest for the day. On the wings of the sky, he rode, possessed them to render them powerless, and took them back into their community. They landed at the sea where it all happened, while the people of the community slept everywhere they were, time did not tick, the sky was still and the sea did not roar. The truth of the day was gathered by Ali’s trusted men of war in a sealed scroll, kept a secret sacred worth for all he stood for that led to his death, to be watched over by the Watchers, till it was morning, and handed over to his children to be read at the square. 


Each person woke where they had slept, rose hypnotized, and led to the square on their feet. Ali’s eldest child Malika, took the scroll which seemed like a button, a pretty girl of mysterious birth, sand in her hair rolled to break the scroll, “let everyone understand why water, light, air, and sand have come to be one in their glorious life, or all things will weep like this again, and you all will be too sorry and will never be able to put out their wrath till a mysterious child is born like the staff of the community now reading”. The wanderer who was there was no wanderer, but a child reincarnated who was the bosom friend to Ali, mysteriously killed on a voyage on his way back with gold for families within the community, an evil plot by every head of the house except Ali. For the beauty of his friend's house, dreams for the community, and plea for their sin, he sought the land to explain this to the people, “please do not castigate anyone, or every family will be castigated along with them, except Ali’s family and the children unborn at that time. I know Ali will want better, that is why a scroll is here to guide you, and Malika will be here to guard the community, she has the blessings of the land, immortals, and the dead.


Sweet joy filled them with divine warmth of the land, immortals, and the dead, with the beauty of a fresh start at life,  however their shortcomings. They sang the song of the free as the sea and birds began to sing again; nature bade them welcome in clear exalted healthy existence beautifully, as Earth’s arms opened abundance unto every person and their fame spread wide and beyond. Each year that arrived, foretold the kind intention behind Ali’s sacrifice and the luminance of the people’s kindness, to understand the consciousness of their empathy and sympathy for all, in the face of all virtues for heaven to witness. 


This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741