What is familiar soon fades away. Neither as
an untravelled path that petters out at night
when the sky kisses an eerieness from a distance.
Nor as a memory disappearing into a depth
that explodes into an afterlife of traumas.
But as a rebellion that purloins our strongest desires,
tethered to the brutal fictions of perpetual becoming.
Unarrived, and never arriving, a deluge of hollows
echoes through, standing before the door of unfreedom.
What is familiar soon unravels into strangeness,
and disappears into a sail beyond the shackles of terror,
an unknown sea that terrifies not, a place of refuge
where dignity is Black power.
James Yékú 