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Mar 22, 2026
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Literary journal of the Northern Writers Forum.
© 2026 NWF Journal · Northern Writers Forum
Literary journal of the Northern Writers Forum.
Every hope is an oasis
In the desert of my thoughts. I rise,
Trod the face of noon on the dune
& the throat of night
That belches the constellation. Every night,
I resort to my oasis,Â
And rest my weary mind.
I offer litanies towards the sky, & I count
The stars & read the half moon–
Father says dirge ambushes
the mouth that reads a full moon:
The carapace does, and mourns its snail.
Lizards raid the mouth of the wall
That does; ants read the sorrows
Left by a naked ìrókò tree [that reads
A full moon] that lies on the earth.
Half moon is a comma– to say
Everything goes on, to say hopes
Must stay… must not vanish
Like the lappets of the timid masquerade
In the tale. I dread everything that means
Full stop: loss. grief. full moon. full. stop.
Know the language of the heart/earth,
Salvage your essence with the oasis
In your thoughts; lest a man perishes
& his shadow becomes an orphan,
& turns into a broken wind.
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