Cincinnati, my angel,
regret holds me by a leash. I am hurt more by the choices of my youth that the ache in my knees.
As this November snow whitens, the leash tightens and my heart won’t take it.
Please listen to all the pups do for Papa. They do for His design. They dread His curse.
I had to grow feeble to learn the evil truth, of a certain loftiness that God stretches for.
The juveniles gorge away His pride, bathing themselves in the lilies of fate, and steering the same kites.
Kites of one colour,
later, kites of the vile.
Even He, hurts at these beauteous things.
O Cincinnati, remember our spring dates?
how we chased the neighbourhood mile,
how we gave a smirk to heaven,
how you taught my claws righteousness.
It’s the folklore I keep telling, ‘The Story of a Cub Who Sought a Cherub’
but to what end?
I never wished to be Wolf.
Yes! I blame me, not Him.
By my eighth, I could feel a raging for the peach itching in my bones,
a sizzling desire to hunt pilling up with every strand of hair.
So, I sinned and I left you.
Seven seasons of howling, I still hate it.
I chose the bloodstained snow and it sickens me.
Cincinnati, I crave your heart more than the spirits of the earth.
Your eyes mirrored my soul. In them I found my kite, the good one.
Every moon, I whimper to the skies that they might let you fall.
Be it a feather from your wings, I will whine in your purity.
With a winter left, I pray my good kite steers back to your feet.
I only growl at the ice now. It stays harsh.
Perhaps the yearlings stare on and learn, or perhaps He stops stretching.
But more so, I wish my angel will come down to pet her beast, to loosen his leash,
so, I will wait by the Elk branch, every dawn, clothe as rabbit.
Princewill Ticha
Princewill Ticha is an emerging ('hopefully' - he says) African writer who is still learning to shape emotions into poetry and story. With no formal background in writing, he approaches the craft as a daily practice, one built on curiosity, patience, and the slow mastery of language. He draws inspiration from the textures of African life around him, as well as his love for music, literature, and cinema, which continually widen his creative lens. Though early in his journey, he writes with sincerity and a desire to grow, hoping each piece brings him closer to understanding the art he admires.
