Candle in The Wind – Phill Ibsen
The candent candle sways to my breath
Father sits on a wooden stool
On the table he stretches his foot
Blowing smoke to my books
As I count my fingers while doing some math
Mother is outside serving her brew
Sinking to the appraisals from drunk men
She tastes, she sits on their laps
They touch her, she laughs
We are a happy family.
The men leave and mother walks in
Just read, you will end up like your father – she says
Father shrinks his foot off the table
Where is my food!? He demands
The rain begins its pelting dance.
Do I look like your food!? Mother slurs
There is a leak on the roof
The walls have wetted
Father blows, my lungs quiver
Arises and clamps her throat
Two dark figures immersed on the wall
Sweat cockles on my hairline
Father mars the smoke on her temple
Lights off, feeble-self coil under the table
Utensils shatter, on my legs the stool falls
Somebody’s back against the wall
A thud on the floor someone falls
The door flung Somebody help!!!
Puff my lungs out
I try to sleep trying to forget.
In my wake a friend tells me to use this
Hands it over calling it cannabis
He says it will help me forget things
He shows me how to, the same way daddy used to
Lace it between my index fingers
Sit back, relax, cross your legs over the table
Create an imaginary world and dive in it
One puff, two puffs, I cough
Third puff, puff my lungs out
Breathe in, inhale the smoke
Wait for it
Breathe out, exhale the pain
Suppress the thoughts
I puff my lungs out
I’m hiding my tears the best way I know how to
I’m drinking the pieces of pints you left behind
You are here serving your brew
I’m surrounded by laughter from my crew
You don’t look so good mama
Tears have formed terraces on your face
Do you miss me too, mama?
I hear your voice weep
“Oh my dear child.”
Until I lace a cigarette on my grip
The smoke wraps itself around my mind
Then it slithers like a serpent from the bark of a tree
Then I blow it out watching it form an image of Papa
Your image then disappears mama
Even in death, mama, Papa, don’t see eye to eye
Papa you don’t talk to me when you visit
You just stare until I finish
In a sad scowl of pity restrained in your eyes
Is that for me, for you or for mama?
Papa, you look different
Mama, what is wrong with papa?
Mama, I want to hear Papa speak
Is he not proud of me?
Mama, papa, why are you sad?
Just a mere me
The state, the sovereign
Spit and abuse democracy to reign
To you my natural rights I will not bargain
Gave you power and saw no change
I am enslaved
Languishing in misery
Drowning in miasma of poverty
You call yourself independent
But to what joy lies in some lies?
Political independence we fought for
Broke the chains of bondage and race servitude
When shall we rise for economic independence?
Today the west, tomorrow the east.
But sadly, I am just the mere me,
My voice ending up not being heard