You love like the seasons…
The spring in your step renewed me
Your summer lips subdued me
You weakened my limbs and I did fall
But your touch foretold winter after all.
And you left – for what? To recycle a lie,
To bring forth new flowers just to let them die.
Words could not save her this time.
There were no paper boats and pen oars to sail her to the safe corners of her mind.
She had inhaled him too deeply,
Until his breath had formed lips in every pore on her skin.
She did not know how to end him
Or where to begin.
Words could not save her.
She had inhaled him too deeply
Until his breath had formed lips in every pore on her skin,
Whispers, hypnotic and polyphonic,
Effects which are soporific.
She closes her eyes and tries to quiet herself
But there are too many voices,
She falls asleep in defense
And woke up seeking a river.
There were no paper boats and pen oars sailing her to the safe corners of her mind.
This journey was different.
She felt the pull of her bloodline, urging, go to the water source.
She let the blue-green currents sweep her away … they said, be reborn.
As her head emerged from the water,
she woke up from the dream,
Remembering the scene, with women cheering Omowale. Omowale. Omowale.
Could you love me in the dark
as well as you could in the day?
Without eyes assisting hands to type a sweet word,
Without lyrics from love songs to always be heard,
Without filtered images and phone calls to present our best side,
Without social scripts to be our guide,
Without presentations of wealth to impress and woo,
Just the bed sheets, me and you?