There is this deadly eater

Which eats through even sweating

A sneeze gives it sharper teeth

To chew the human from inside

Merging blood is its travelling aeroplane

Pleasurable kissing its smooth vehicle

We're lucky the air begrudges it

Or it will wipe us all out

Lovers must be shunned

When they are caught

Because love can't protect

It's  wicked claws

It laughs at hand sanitizers

Because it is stronger than weak bacteria

And waits on death to get more flesh

One cannot be too careful

It kills even hands with experience

So stay away from handshakes and hugs

And be wary of high fevers

Ebola is real

Don't joke, don't laugh

No drug is known to conquer

So stay alert and stay alive.

  Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2004

It's a tale as old as time,
Like a fine wine that's aged.
Getting more bitter, rather than sweeter.

I look in the mirror. My reflections stares back at me.
The edges blur and fizzle, waiting to reveal, to see.
The face in the mirror resembles my face, only less clear.
Instead she looks at me, eyes wide with fear.
She snarls her nose, growls and hisses.
I look back, in time, she reminisces.
About the days we would share the same face.
About a time, we lived in the same place.

Now she shouts, WHAT DO YOU WANT?
I scream, she continues to haunt.
Why don't you like me? What's so wrong?
YOU ARE WEAK, I SHOULD BE STRONG.

I look away, count to three.
Ground my feet, think of me.
I am not weak.
I look at her again. I am NOT weak,
I say with a look so bleak.
YOU ARE she judges,
JUST LOOK AT YOU, she begrudges.

I bite my nail, look away again.
I try to hide the pain.
The girl in the reflection laughs and chortles
YOOU ARE FEEBLE, just like all mortals.

I AM NOT! I scream. I AM ME AND WHO ARE YOU TO SAY?
THAT I AM JUST SOMEBODIES PRAY?
But look at you, getting defensive against your own reflection
You could say it's merely a deflection,
Of your self worth
You might as well be a still birth.
You bring no value to this world.
She spits the words, lips curled.
I HATE YOU.
I HATE YOU TOO.
OH BOOHOO POOR ME POOR YOU.

I collapse on the floor,
I can't take much more.
What will the next face bring?
I rise from the abyss,
I can barely withstand this.

The next face is kinder.
Another meek body behind her.
Who are you?
I ask askew.
I am you, and you are me.
Let me show you what I can see.
I see a person whose been through a lot.
Every-time they get back up, down they are shot.

I nod cautiously, is this a trick?
Quickly she'll be coming back, I'll be quick.
There's many faces that you can see,
Be it you, us or me.
I understand the torture you hold inside,
Let it go, be free, we want to take your side.
But how? I cry, tears falling of my cheek.
Keep going slowly, week, by week.
I nod slowly, I cry a lot more.
My arms are shaking my throat is sore.
I can't keep fighting, the monster in my mirror.
Every day she keeps coming nearer.

That's okay, you will see.
One of these days you will be me.
And the little girl hiding behind you?
It's another face of you know who.
I shakily nod, and enquire,
Why she's hiding, as if about to transpire.
She's hiding from the face in the mirror.
Just like you, it's becoming clearer.
We don't like what we can see.
I don't like it anymore please believe me.
I know, I know, my reflection says.
But please let it be just a haze.
The girl in the mirror stood before you.
You can choose what she does do.
It's a hard rope to walk, and I walk it well.
I know it's hard, for you to tell,
But you have a choice, a voice, a speech and sound.
It's hard when she's screaming, I feel drowned.
Shush now, it will be alright.
I can't keep fighting this ****** fight.
I feel so tired, exhausted and spent.
I know, I'm sorry but it's time we both went.

I stare at my reflection. She stares back at me.
Eyes brown, hair soft, no expression to see.
She doesn't blink. I don't too.
We are now the only two.
Blankly looking out at me.
Wishing that we both were free.
Who are you? I mouth at her,
She copies me with silence despair.
I don't know and **** my head.
She does too, heavy as lead.
I'm so drained, she echoes my words.
Is she mocking me, like mocking birds.
She scrunches her nose, as do I.
We nod to each other and say good bye.

I avoid the mirror the next day or two.
Hiding from the reflection, keeping out of view.

They stared down upon high, glancing in
Trepidation at what was slowly ebbing
Forward, not a snail of a pace but slowing
To that of a sloth, mundane consequences
Where the topic of the day.

What would two of undue taste relish in these
moments of flickering thoughts on what waited
Edging forward to an unseen fate but in their
Gawking  at what was time counting down to a
Conclusion that was abiding its momentary time.

"I do hate this moment,

"What moment begrudges you at the crossroads,

"Its just watching it slop off into prominent areas,

"Never regress what will undoubtedly happen,

"But my taste buds ponder the relishing aroma of what awaits,

They as would be voyeurs of this collapse of will,
Heeding their pace of what is happening. And upon
Sullen branches they pincer upon gladly. Dead longer
Than their birth, but granting views of otherwise,
Winged visions from high above.

"Just a little nick, to ebb away spirit,

"Yes let us bleed upon the ground,

"Really??

"Why thoughts peruse me of this endeavour, and consequences,

"What ramifications would be birthed from actions?
"Nothing but a time indulged must quicker on us,

Fleeting droplets would adhere to the winds gestures,
"Carnivorous undertakers would inhale and smile,

"Do you understand what I imply on your thoughts,

"Yes undue wanting's of our lingering dinner,
"Unjust would this be upon our delicate waiting,

So they gathered upon a the caked ground, speaking
Side by side as their dinner slowly moved on, contemplating
That ever closer moment when breath would leave and
waiting would be done. But night fell and so curled up
Did their feast stop still upon cooling ground shivering.

"Should I degrees  that we wait no longer,
"Its stopped moving, just a nibble is all one wants,

"Thoughts contemplate this endeavour as rumbling is heard,
"Not of the wind or ground but my stomachs hunger aches,

So one approached wings flapping silently in the desert air,
A gust catches as claws capture the ground and stills himself.
"Whoops,
The other shakes his head at his friends near flight into nights
Abyss only to edge ever closer to their midnight feast.
He gently grabs fingers and squeezes pressure ever so lightly.
Momentary pleasure is interrupted by a sudden shift.

"O my god it just chipped my beak,

"You impetus fool I told you to heed the voice below,

Just then, without due warning an arm flared in all
Directions as if life had breathed anew and feathers
Leap in joyous freedom into the clinging air.
Noises of man and bird filled the twilights moon.  
Then as hands gripped tightly upon a beaconing
Throat preoccupying breath talons played with
Subtle tones of skin. opening them up to the waiting
Floor below and it drank so very well,

"I...,
"Think,
"I've,
"Woooo,

And with that a head now being where it shouldn't be.
That which had crawled also a last breath did escape.
As a river of life ran past my claws soaking the earth
In its need for substance. The night was still and death
Had spoken angered torment.

"Well I have never had a friend for dinner,
"Don't give me those dead eyes, ok ill eat them,

And on this night the vulture who gathered around
A meal only dreamt off in this barren place. He'd had
Invited a friend for a chat before dinner, never thinking
That his companion would be the starter before the
Main course. light graced the  morning and he was full.

"Now that was a meal, a friend would want to be part of.
"Sorry I didn't mean it like that,
"But you know what you both taste like chicken?

"Funny think is I don't know what a chicken was?

So he waved goodbye to a meal well had,
"Bye my friend or what's left,
But unbeknown to him, the air was seeded in the
Night crisp air of deaths whispers and others who
Knew that taking of fallen prey was at hand.
He sensed breath and behind coming fast was a
Hungry pack. He flapped his wings knowing flight
Beats feet, but wings pounding upon airs grace.
And still he ran upon soiled earth, to much had he
Gorged upon friend and foe, now filled him so.

"I do so hate the circle of life sometimes,

And with that thought did jaws close tight and
The circle of life greeted this fat bird, as the one
That growled found this bird to be like Christmas
It had once heard this word. a bird stuffed three,
This Ferrell pawed one had just had the best bird
Nature could have given. It howled upon the sky
At the delight of its friends, what a feast they did eat.

THIS OLD HOUSE

a river
of people
flow through this house

sharing time
on this earth
with sunlight and shadow

a parrot
a cat
a dog

people come
people gone
first many then none

the wall paper
goes from hideous
("This will have to go!")

to nicer
every now and then
and then again

hideous as
once
was

strip away wallpaper
to find children's heights
and ages in pencil

small Paul
shoots up above
an envious elder brother

who always
begrudges him
his new found height

a do-it-yourselfer
becomes at once
an emotional archeologist

here a wall is
broken through
one room becomes two

the house leaves
a trail of owners
then landlord after landlord

my own good self
reflected in
the past of others

the ghost of who
they have been
walking from decade to decade

a couple from 1963
newly arrived
newly married

after a lifetime
(so it seems)of living
in sin

he half Irish
she ever so English
with a touch of Dutch

there now
a spinster
dying alone in a sunset

a cross section
of humans
all kinds

the house
a kaleidoscope
of times

people
a living
palimpsest  

the house
contains them all
Time in full flood

a ghost
walks through a wall
gets stuck

between 1907
and 1967
grandfather clock bongs

and bongs again
Time is so
fragile a thing

I too( I see )
will leaves this house
become as one

with the many who
flow through
this place

this place now
a place no more
in some future

that will
not contain
(strangely)me

humans
the flotsam and jetsam
of Time

I should ask her
if
she cares that I am cold
or
if
she begrudges the youth of my bare legs

I should ask him
if
he desires me for Christmas
or
if
he misdiagnoses his bitterness as lust

But
I hide behind the curtain of my hair until I return to my dog
and
together we escape the men who hate women
and
the women who hate women

Refugees from Ireland in
1649 had nowhere to go.

Almost a million perished
at the hands of the English
Tommy’s led by Cromwell.

This predates the genocide
of 1847 when yet another
million died, but with some
relief, as on this occasion an
amount who could escape
did, to France and America.

George Bernard Shaw said
that our cells "never forgot".

It's in our DNA and anyone
who begrudges refugees
entering the country has to
be suspect, especially those
expatriated, ones who have
zero connection with Ireland
but for nostalgia and regret
for not having a home there.

They are like the dog with a
bone, they didn't want it for
themselves, therefore nobody
else is entitled to it either.

How pathetic, no, how sad,
or worse, how mean spirited,
hold on, I mean despicable.