We stand tall, yet so low
above our fears, below our doubts;
we can see through thick
and so we hope so bold
but that is as far as it goes
here we are, hands tied;
we cannot move far
and so we shout for us
to be free

In the grave of dreams,
are hopes shattered, and joy
turned sour
lights turned darkness;
shadows encamping our hopes
all that we ever longed for,
but could never accomplish
all the days of glory,
now a shadowing story

Let us be loose, we pray
take us out of this cage
break all these bars of rage
let us claim the roaring sea,
and name its depths our own.
From the grave of dreams,
I see the sky
but cannot claim it
and so I dare to fight the walls

From the grave of dreams
comes a thousand wishes.
In our helpless and tormented state,
we still seek for freedom
shouting through these scars of rage;
hoping through the chains of siege
praying with all tongues of flames,
but that is as far as it goes;
here we are, hands tied

We look to the world all known,
and wish for the thrills unknown;
though scared of the things unseen,
still wishing for them all
for a song to let us loose,
and a call to give us hope;
for we are locked within walls,
all we do is to dream of dreams
and so painful we never attained them.

Ovi Odiete©

Written 2014

*first published 2014 on poemhunter

My teacher once asked
a short simple question.
She had asked,
"What do you want to be?"
Raised arms answered her query.
Open palms each belonging to excitable children.

Wide little eyes looked up at her.
Hands began to flail in the air...
Ever so hopeful of being chosen.
So that they could voice their aspirations.
So that they could begin to share.

One by one,
they each was given the opportunity.
Turn by turn,
boastful were some
while others spoke quiet and shyly.

Then the teacher stopped short.
Not before expressing her delight.
She was in awe of such young minds...
Having had such great wings
to eventually take flight.

Then she explained...
What she had initially meant.
Confused looks all around including me.
She rephrased the question,
"What kind of person...
Do you want to be?"

There was silence.
No arms shot up to meet the subject.
I don't recall having raised mine,
but I remember telling the teacher...
An answer (I was confident), she wouldn't expect.

I stood at my desk,
proud and tall...
And told the teacher
that I wished to be a person...
Well loved by all.

She smiled and I did too.
I felt it was a good answer.
She nodded to signal for me to take my seat again.
She paused before speaking,
and not a moment later.

She said,
"That would be nice.
To be loved by all.
But that's close to impossible.
A big wish for someone so small."

I had heard her words clearly...
However I didn't understand.
My brows furrowed...
And I was deep in thought...
Still I couldn't comprehend.

28 years later...
Here I sit,
looking back to that time in the past.
How time flies...
It simply ticked away...
All too fast.

Till just then I was still that boy...
Who tried hard to please.
I wanted to prove that it wasn't impossible.
You can be loved by everyone,
and you can do it with ease.

But now I have learnt.
Now I have found meaning
and understanding in my teacher's wisdom.
It took me a while but...
I know now...
That wishes and reality don't work in tandem.

You can choose to care and love,
everyone you see.
But to expect everyone to love you the same...
Is sheer
impossibility.