by Eghele Akpere

On the black rose hill,
Where no morning warmth hugs,
The mild expected no cuddle;
The freely priceless love,
And compassion shown,
Was welcomed with rebukes,
The rebukes of stripes.
Love was brute.



Without any lullaby,
No applauds or cheers,
With chants of crucify,
With blows and bruises,
Of shame and curses,
Mockery and laughs,
Laughs of scorn;
Love showed hate.
Without any words;
Calming words of affirmation,
She showed forth thorns,
Thorns as crown,
Trickles of vinegar,
Spits and slaps,
Strokes and ripping;
The ripping of death,
Death that was being swallowed;
Love bore cruelty.



With no feeling,
Feelings of compassion,
She nailed him still,
She spilled the gall,
And dared to say;
Let us see,
See who would save,
From this grip,
The grip that bore freedom;
Love walked still.
And as he looked,
At the bride he did love,
The same that pierced,
The same that sneered,
More love,
More love He poured.
From the wounds that bled,
That love was sealed.
Sealed with blood;
His stainless blood.


 I am Eghele Akpere, I live in Warri. I am the author of a novel, Diary of a Warri Boy. I am a geoscientist, who loves discovering new things. I keep on understanding myself more, and I found out that I love poetry (for the beauty of it). I get better, as I appreciate corrections.



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