Promises That Lie In Tombs Of Tomorrow

By Nana M Singehebhuye

Under the starry skies, they gaze upon the heavens to face the moon, to embrace them with wishes, with hearts full of unimaginable tears, minds consumed with regret, engulfed in untouchable grief. 

Tomorrow sings out loud, praising and boasting in his own arrogant victories, with no care or anxiety in the world. With no promises to keep, only wishes to make it dream and wish upon a star.

Memorising the faces of the dead in promises unkept. Watching them lay in tombs of tomorrow and broken promises. Making wishes for the dead in promises carried by the wind and withered roses by the tomb stone crying in wishes.

Yesterday’s promises become today’s wishes. Promises so humorous that tomorrow laughs and taunts. A humorous irony for tomorrow laced with a wish of what should have been yesterday but was not tomorrow.

Promises wrapped in comforting blankets of soothing words, turned to ashes by watery lying saliva from the lips. Promises whispered in the ‘I will call you back”. Vain words captured by the ear, promises that vanish throughout the day, become wishes mourned in the morning.

Promises in haunting words carried by grieving souls, in the "I wish I could see you again, to hear your voice again'. Longing wishes imprinted on a mourning heart. Preserved on phone records that reflect unanswered calls from yesterday's promise. Lingering hope in voices of the dead, in wishes for them to prosper beyond the grave, beyond broken words and in fall short promises.

Tomorrow respects no promises. It acknowledges the words in the night, yet they are forgotten by the morning. They become promises tossed in deep oceans and swimming into worlds unknown. For tomorrow robs us of sweet goodbyes and a thousand forever laughter’s.

In clear blue skies they see their smiles dance in the heavens, blowing air kisses to their cheeks, on rainy days they feel their eyes water, they memorise every drop. In summer they feel their warm love embrace them once again. In Spring they remember their faces and say their names. 

By Nana M Singehebhuye