Blankets, Cuddles, Stars.
Answers in the caves of hands
Cupped into each other in confidence,
Whispering to each other in silhouetted drowsiness.
Empathy spoons the vulnerable swoon,
Holding the insecure’s bits together when moon-light illuminates what’s true.
And if truth is light
And light is life
Then this liquid tear is truth lingering at the corners of our eyes…
Drip! A streak of heat on cheeks.
Drip! On the pillow for your head.
Drip! An anointing on the edges of your hair.
To burn the past of pain,
And wash away it’s filthy stains
For pure hearts to have a say.
So clasp these hearts,
To the curl and lock of toes,
The kissed shoulder reassured,
And the smiles of broken ice and charm.
To welcome dawn, the forgetful one
With a phase fallen, with allied stars.
If scavengers reappear, circling our sun
To pick at our bones, now merged and concrete,
We will lie unvexed beneath the golden glow,
One flesh, one spirit, avec mon amour.
How long and worth the walk this trail has been
From the back and forth beginnings of lingering looks
Of, “I hope there is nothing in my teeth” moments
To Nom’ungaxubhanga* you are still my future tense.
So let us share this breath, and find our consonance.
Now love is a risky prayer,
Devotion uttered daily that we may not forget its holy verb,
The action word,
Affection to the point of work,
Unhinged from the fool’s love of feeble speech that proclaims to jump in front of trains
And plunge before hypothetical grenades.
Now who is left to show the simple plan
Of honesty in high supply?
Who sustains the practical affair
Of long suffering and selfless care?
Who can fight through looming annihilation
To claim their right to humiliation,
For the one?
For love sings an ode to the true comrades of its war
Who manoeuvre through blazing ricochets of stray and intentioned bullets
That constantly tear the walls around, taking headless victims;
And build amidst the noise a quiet place,
A point of poise,
A home.
Believe with me that we are these warriors
Taking what is ours.
No longer drunk on romantic notions,
But chastised by a love we took part in creating.
How relieving, how mighty, to be conscious,
To decide for myself that I want you;
Because this time it’s on our terms,
Standing here on purpose.
– JustCallMeBongo
* (Ndebele) “Even with unbrushed/flossed teeth.”
Portrait Cover Image by Sincominkosi Khumalo Art
Still Water Reeds 