Two words.
an eerie covenant, undertones of prominence,
overlooked confidence, a steep slope
to be heard.
Grasped onto by wanting palms, by weighted arms,
by sweaty fingertips with anxious overt grips
that concur with
these words.
Sometimes in silence, in known gazes between known faces
and revisited phases of these secret places
that are upheld and in which, reveled,
by keeping your word.
It occurred.
That sin that’s associated with oaths and daggers,
undoing their sharpening.
Better to have put a knife in my heart
and twisted it a bit till it tore me apart
and set me ablaze from the wood on its handle
than to make me a vow which you knew you couldn’t handle
from the start.
A promise, a debt, whose pay is due
for the worthy, you have to do.
Read – Will You Be My Phone? – A Poem by Justin Nagundi, Uganda
This poem was published in the December 2021 Edition of the WSA Magazine
