Imperfections refined
from sections
of misconceptions
Into
realms
resonating
in the absence
of insecurities
As reflections
become easier
to look back at
in the presence
of everything we weren’t
Until
the
runs
out
And we are.
© Hudson Biko
Photograph by Brunel Johnson
You feel it in the air sometimes
lingering
in its repetition
In its own rendition
of the sound
made by
swarms
of bees
Buzzing
In hives
that survive
the strands
of time
In time
Still stinging
and ringing
In metaphorical ears
that even after
all these years
Still
kinda
sound the same
Still
kinda
feel the same
Maybe slightly kinder
to ears
less fragile
after years
of buzzing
But the stings
never heal
No,
those ones stay
Those ones
linger
Morphing into
what we try
to be
Those ones
become
our own rendition
of the bee
that once stung
And maybe that’s all we ever really needed
Maybe that’s our buzz
© Hudson Biko
Photograph: Annie Spratt
Chests congested
by the repercussions
of actions
rather taken
back
As stacks,
racks
and blankets
of past events
blanket
shivering
skin
Lingering
in their obscurity
Reminding us
of their solidity
;
Leaving us Adrift.
Amongst bumps
we call goosebumps
:
Shivering.
© Hudson Biko
We watched as random turned into linear.
As we realized
that we could never loom
together chemistry
or see
what loomed behind
the walls and blinds
that bound us together,
As we realized that echoes
and shadows
are only reflections
of ourselves
:
Shadows we tried to set light on.
But reflections
are reiterations
that never truly disappear.
they loom behind
walls and blinds
:
Blinding us
in their chemistry.
© Hudson Biko
Inspired by the Daily Prompt: Collaboration
And after all of this
we found
ourselves
bound
to
temporary
moments
escaping
into
scents
of reminiscence.
© Hudson Biko
hudson biko 