Life past the glimpse of hope

By Atok Dan Baguoot

For the first time in a score of years,
when the sun, the moon, and the galaxies of stars
turned away from the orbit.
It was a day doomed to end life, soul, and oxygen
Life past the glimpse of hope,

For the first time in a score of reasoning,
smile, frown, and laughter of happiness
turned into a mere cry of babies
life and soul mesmerized by the events of the day
a day doomed to an end of breathing oxygen
it was when the abdomen of pregnant mothers aches
but no neighborhood helps
It was when no glimpse of hope seems to guide tomorrow

For the first time in a score of years,
a bride and groom tend apart in anguish.
It was a day when twelve hours of the night add up in imagination
It was a night when couples drop the duty of caressing touches
The bitterness of no glimpse of hope
Life and hope were yoked under the merciless burden of time
Life past the glimpse of no hope

For the first time ever,
fathers and mothers began abandoning their loved angels
in the quest for new hope.
Life was doomed to an end
Ordinary oxygen tends into hot carbon dioxide,
seas of waters melted into a swarm of fires,
mirages of savannah lands eroded into ashes,
and the soft germinating buds protruded into thorns
It was a day of curses and regrets, an unforgettable day
Life was with no glimpse of hope

For the first time the traditional astronomers
failed to name seasons,
to differentiate between January and December,
June and July.
It was a season of no harvest, no planting.
Men and women of high integrity bent their traditional norms
in survival.
They tried unexpected; they steal from others’ farms
Life was doomed to an awkward ending,
mothers cry the cries of babies
and babies sing their own lullabies like wallabies
It was life short of hope, no glimpse of hope

For the first time in life,
peaceful tribes locked horns in bitterness,
for the first time sound of the horn of dangers locked doors of peace.
It was a time of no mercy but mercilessness reigns the region
It was a region in ruinous shape.
Silence reigns the confusion
It was time for an end to hope, not even a glimpse of hope