She was in love with the man made out of sand
But she lived in water, nestled in the waves
Stubborn, she took him for herself, held him close
In seconds, he fell away from her body
Leaving mocking impressions on her skin that said ‘you never had me’…
Frantic now, she gathered as much of him as she could in her hands
But he was gone, seeping through her fingers into a vast ocean
She sat by the shore and mourned for the loss of him, more painful than before.
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.