bedlam

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in the bedlam

of days

there are times

when the haze

of yesterdays

will come in

and play.

and there are times

when the decay

of the better times

will come in and stay.

and we will

pray

in the only

way

we know how

to ask

for a way

to make the less. less.

© Hudson Biko

Photograph by Lydz Leow

flux

rain

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it was 3 am.

some sampha was playing.

and

the earth was still.

and

the rain was dim.

and

every so often

there was nothing that mattered

as much

as

letting it fall

 

© Hudson Biko

Photograph by Sarah Diniz Outeiro

blue

it was about midday.

the branches were low.

a lawn mower

hovered

above the sound of the birds

lined against the silence

of the sky.

the blue

was bleeding.

in

and out.

© Hudson Biko

 

haunted

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often

growing up

after a fall

i was told

to let the wounds

be.

that the best

way for their

healing

was their solitude.

that scars could come

but most would

go.

and i would be better.

it is a weird thing.

for i am all grown now.

and i

try

and try

and try

let the wounds be.

and it just doesn’t seem to work anymore

© Hudson Biko

Photograph by Matheus Ferrero