Burning dark, burning red

---

Most folks would say

They are born for the day.

For them night for a day

Is just like a mat for a sleeper

In a sleeping bay.

A day is not only blessed with glittering rays

But comes with light

For the youth to venture around

To open up their minds

And see things from an elevated height.

Most would definitely say

A day light, even if it is no bright

Is still all right compared to a night.

A day is fair,

It gives sight

A better chance to conform or

Compare, what other sense organs

For a fact they adhere.

A day is preferred to conduct trade

To see better you have been made to tread.

A day light is sure better than night

Even if it is dim,

To negotiate the terrain and put you soul to farm.

So as to no slouch

And not to befriend hunger and sleep under

Her arm.

Some do peculiar conduct during daytime

Other folks to charm.

You may think their profession is ineffectual

But certainly it does do no harm.

Do not get me wrong; I would like to say,

Like an honest companion, a day

Says what it has got to say.

And it invites a fair game to play

With all intents fully on display.

Under the watchful eyes of the Sun

A day is for sure productive and fun

Children too go wild and in the meadow they run.

Dispute all these But I ---

Yes, I prefer the dark, the Negro dark

Than a clear blue sky.

When I was too young

I was not even aware

When I did take my lessons.

But all the same, I did learn my

Lessons the hard way,

At night and not during day.

I had a teacher

Pugnacious, bellicose

Belligerent and more –that he was,

Words fail to define his character.

If I did not yield, when compelled,

He would break my neck,

And would have me killed

Save I knew to survive how to pull the last trick,

That would make him tick

And loosen his killer instinct.

Now I have finished the studies

And I did successfully graduated,

It is time I am in business to recruit

And produce future candidates,

Like I was once for my teacher a target.

I feel safe at night

I wait to dark

Until the role to police the streets is taken over

By a beast that roars and barks,

The order of whose - all with no exception

Have to hark.

I wait to dark

When folks shoe home to sleep

Then I wake up and go to work.

I proffer a vital service

Without it the orderly day system,

The status quo will desist.

Night has taught me its secretes,

I am flunked by shadowy elements

They too cannot come out,

They are allergic to daylight.

They have their own compelling stories to tell

If had listening ears were not to fail.

Now I cannot quite see, my vision is lost

My eyes have ceased to function

Like the vermiform inside a host,

A day means nothing any more,

But blind as I am about a day I know a lot,

And can tell when a day come up with a plot

To murder mind you another day on the spot.

All the truants of the day

Spend few hours in my bay

That is how I gain my knowledge without any pay.

And yet dispute my service,

The beauty and image of the dark I fork out

To help day stand on its feet,

And despite the knowledge I posses

About a day I would not want to part of,

Everyone who crossed my legs

And embarrassingly prostrate and pay homage,

From wives’ savagery, their dark lives that I salvaged.

All these notwithstanding, I am still considered heretic,

Both the infidels and righteous

Would want to nail me on the crucifixes.

For all their faults, and good things they lack.

And that is what I call my luck.

Copyright Haileselassie Girmay

26/3/98