13th July 2016.

I see you, walking in bodies of three

The good, the bad, the ugly

Wandering like the sanctified feet of Moses

Casting out your hands in gestures of utterances

Looking like your mind is bounded by the lines of your salvation on opposite sight

I see, you’ve let go of memories of me

Your infatuation has ceased over these many inordinate years

Your need for me to teach you my mother’s tongue has out grown you

You no longer recognise the tribes on my face

The parted sea in my mouth

The staff behind my words

Your choice of me to be the mark or the henry. Both on a bad day

I see you are no longer checking for me

You’ve found yourself another target, haven’t you?

She’s good, she’s pretty, she is the one whose tongue you do not envy as much

She is plain, isn’t she?

I see you, walking back in bodies of three

I never expected less, you always looked like you’d be the one to make it

We did too.

15. Waiting

I find myself always waiting.

Not upon the second arrival of my Saviour kind of wait. But,

The kind that causes you to wait for the other shoe to drop.

The ‘I know my idle hands ought to find something worth doing but I’ll wait anyways’ kind of wait.

I repeatedly mistake being STILL for waiting.

In the unfolding of this story, I wait

Knowing there’s a master and a field,

desperate for more labourers.

Still I wait for Him to ask me to work for him.

14. Abba Father.

We will rise as the bearer tears the shadows from the surface of the Earth.

We will mount the air on which our souls will lay,

and cry the testimonial cries of the One we were made to become.

Exclaiming in reverence ‘Abba Father’.

13. Unmoved.

You’re the kind of God that spoke light out of darkness

You’re the kind of God that speaks understanding out of silence

You are not an Ordinary God

Sometimes I fear I will never move

I don’t know what it will take for me to move

Out of my comfort zone and into yours

I reap out of the abundant of your love

But God, I don’t know what it will take for me to

Move into the secret place with You

I see you standing but I feel unmoved in my actions to you

But at the same time moved by You.

Is that even possible, to be unmoved by my actions for you

But in the same breath, be moved by You?

Maybe, it’s the breath I still have in me that causes me to believe

The day will never come.

12. To London.

Whenever I am reminded of you

My rolls sink deeper into each other as if they haven’t been acquainted for years

The ten year old girl in me no longer stays up to listen to the roar that forms from the innermost parts of you.

Whenever I am reminded of you

I am reminded that human oppression is your functioning asset

The labour of my hands will never be enough for you that I am merely a fragment of the many men, women, children, thots, gigolos and harlots that pay to feed you.

Whenever I am reminded of you

My religion shivers into the self-belief system of equality as it and you both stand in unity

My womanhood thank you for responding to the unheard questions of the slit in between my thighs.

Whenever I am reminded of you

I am reminded of how much I loathe summertime

Of how beauty is deemed subjective, yet nearly all your folks would nail my body to the cross if they could

Whenever I am reminded of you

I am reminded of the four ages we spent apart

Rejoicing over the countless prayers that my heart won’t grow any fonder towards you

Whenever I am reminded of you

The consuming pressure of pattering feet never stops pattering, the roaming pestilence

I am reminded that before anything else we are judged as pigs and cows being lead to the slaughter house

Whenever I am reminded of you

Your role as the thief never changes, stealing a child’s dream

Your sympathy is never as long or genuine as you desire it to be

Whenever I am reminded of you

I am reminded of the lost travellers, the roads left untraveled

The uncertainty, the pigeon holes, my first lust

The edification of the mind that proves challenging even for the shrewd ones.

The never taken test of intelligence

The underserving survival packs ready to be handed down through generations as a golden ticket for a job not done

Whenever I am reminded of you

I am reminded that your warmest of days will never be enough to pay in kinds the cold blooded husbands, sons and boys

The pool for pickings of which I shall birth

The memories of fabricated dreams dealt when they were never a fair deal to begin with

Whenever I am reminded of you

I am reminded of the new traces of freedmen and appetites that arouse my gratitude

Troubled by the habitual traces of freedmen and appetites driving my forced man into death

Whenever I am reminded of you

The question of if we were ever a match to begin with plays trivia in my head

If I will ever be open enough to fall in love with you again

Only time will tell the tale of our test

4. Revelations

Disco night in the blue

Voices of misty clouds applauding

Rumours of existence unfolding

Drowsy depths in the Lord’s Prayer

Mind,                 Soul,                   Peace

Form solidarity at judgments of an adulterous kiss goodnight.