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This poem reveals my handicap

Poem: The handicap that is my hand


Do not mind my broken English

It is the stuff of my impairment

Used to hold down the thorns of ego

Sometimes one has to give up a beautiful treasure trove

And be naked from the inside out

It is not that my mental capacities are overwhelmed

It is the opacity of my mental faculties

That hinder my efforts to drink from the well of English language

It is only possible for me to limp from one word to another

Held down by the weeds of vocabulary

Forgive me for my unholy speech

It is the conscious substance of my tongue

That erases every punctuation mark

Puncturing my well-manicured sentences

Disfiguring my figure of speech

Poetry chose this subject

Not based on any ill intentions

It is the back alley of human consciousness

That has a habit of pouring scorn

On every visible particle of light

Inside the darkness of the human psyche

We have bred a few venomous snakes

That are itching to have a bite

On the cold flesh of human impairments

It is the handicap that is my hand

To be unable to hold properly to the reins of the English language


©Kenneth Maswabi


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