The Flames 

Looking out from a  burst window pane

wild fires burn

heat, smoke, flames

the furious children of Aten

man made  red sun of destruction

who dries up the milk of the moon

Ashes fall from heaven

obscuring Krishna's blue face

Babalon dons a new grey shroud

woven of the noxious fumes of

roasted flesh upon the charring ground

My lover offers me his hand

I step up onto his star ship’s deck

the only cool surface left

We rise, moving inward

headed towards the center

for the Land of Love, Ile Ife

Between kisses we gaze

at the tranquility of deep space

my  Captain asks of me,

“Woman, can you find your Mother?”,

I reply,

“Sister Sky  wears Her diamonds

tonight, I can no longer see

the abyss below, the smoldering ball of ash

where Destiny once bid some to dive

I am a refugee, at last free,

Mother has finished Her effigy of me”

((c)) 2005. Djenra. All rights reserved