WHO DOES THIS BELONG TO? By MIDÉ BENEDICT

This is for those
Who see life as an unfair land,
Where growth is fairly found only
On luck's fragile and ferocious tree:

It is for those whose eyes only
See reality as a coin
Always tossed to uncertainty:

For those who see misery
As an inescapable ditch,
Never to be seen when its mouth agars,
Never to be escaped when its venom runs,
But to be delivered like a slave for a ritual,
Thrown like a cotyledon into dry soil,
To germinate failure like a blocked well,
Hoping to salvage a droughty throat.

For those whose first name is lucky,
Whose last name is uncertainty
And middle name misery,
Know that which you know not that
The poison in your tongue is
The wine your life drinks;
It drinks on and on till stupor calls for death
And stupidity dresses its grave
Like a young man before a mirror,
Staring unthinkingly at his face,
Till he sees greyness in his eyes.

This is for those who see eye to eye
With the words on this slate.

Image by Midé Benedict