I stand before the jury, guilty and not remorse.
A stranger to the court of poetry.
The judge keeps banging his court hammer.
First on my head because I am a hard nut to crack.
Second, my chest, because daily I thump it trying to prove I am the best.
Finally, I am guilty of reading poems written by strangers.
Poets I have never met, yet their words whisper to my heart.
Counsel my wayward ways.
I stand guilty, I deserve a long divine sentence.
Behinds bars isn't one of them.
©ed-rukungu
E