Drift Of Hope Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

Reef-knotted with chains
by a typhoon
drawing me back to a shore,

here I stand
on breaking pillars
between a storm

and a tornado's head -
O waterspout
on the peak of a hilly river
rushing down

a promontory's face
when dusk swells
into a mountain of night

and dawn swings
in the broken fingers
of a thunderous
dawn slashed by lightening

(ii)

Here I hang on a tree,
its roots in a swamp
flushed out
by a cascade's mouth.

Here I lie
drained and splayed
under a drifting mountain rock
spinning in sludge.

Here I chirp,
the limbless cricket
on a shrub's crown
floating on a craggy shore.

When I breathe
in sun and star,
weaving their rays
for a barrel hitch,

as I'm swung to hang
on filaments
of the praying mantis
on an extended trip
to the flycatcher's jaws.

(iii)

Here I jump out
from a cow hitch,
a mooing
wind ambling across a knoll,

as a bell tolls
across a broken bridge
and a firestorm
devours a shifting bank

below a towering sky
pushing up a bush
of charcoal and graphite clouds

and a narrow corridor
opens a straight
to a lake's shore.

And when a rainbow
sprays its arch
over a drifting sinking gorge
ricocheting a bird's voice

from a flying shadow
of me, the rainbow explodes
into a glen
sprinkling seeds for a garden.