The Savannah Cools At Night

Crisp, stiffer than you’d like, the ocean roars at night.

See, lions watch, eyes alit, and you’ve been caught

When you shouldn’t be awake, and the grass is not

Your purview, not your fight, not till the burning light.

It punctures your skin, again, and the watchmen tense,

But it pierces your soul, to bloodlet the cold

And loose your stiffened, aching, full of fear but bold,

Your back to the watchmen. Wade swiftly to make amends:

For I abandoned you, cries the land, and aggrieved I show my hand:

“Look, your dirt road to forever is imprinted on me, look!

My barefoot claims were brushed away, my memories forsook,

But red, red clay is violently and always in my palm - my land.”

Recent Posts

See All


resilience is not always a stiff upper lip it is not always silence sometimes resilience is screaming the throat sore and bruising the hands against the door and waking up to the next day something re


a season, a season sing to yourself a season but to your bones it is deep, deep winter

calling all gods everywhere

Calling all gods everywhere — make yourselves useful; cease your petty quibbling and show yourselves. It has appeared that unless you alone (I speak to each little god, each little you) are master & c

+1 (202) 384-5561

  • Visit my Facebook page!
  • Visit my Instagram

©2017 by The Kilele Project. Proudly created with