I am tired
Of this wait,
This lane,
This phase.

I ain’t inspired
By this weight,
Of this plane,
From the space.

I am clustered
By this drought,
From this clan,
It’s like a trance.

I have no placard
For this frost,
This heaty-wetty clone,
Lingering at my heart’s entrance

I would get battered
If I extend no combat,
To this strain,
Blurring my countenance.

Aisha Harun (Nana bee)
August, 2016