Posted by Wamuhu Mwaura on December 9, 2009 at 4:05pm
the midnight hour has passedand across miles of earth, who is mother,and ocean, who is her kindred,your well modulated voiceasks quietly of me,"what is it that you long for?"face burning brightly, a star gone nova,I want to say, "I long to make of my body a haven,where you might nestle inside of meand take your respite."instead, I utter words of prudent nature."forgive me, dear one,but the complexity of my emotions,which lurk beneath a seemingly wizened veneer,became, as days and weeks and years elapsed,difficult to put sensibly into words.and, as well, there was the fear that time—disastrous mistress that she is,who forges her way ever forward,shoulders rigid, head aloft,deaf ear turned to my every desperate plea that she halt—had grown us too far apartfor even the most ambitious of bridges to span.and that fear kept feelings minefrom lacking proper definition,kept them as particles of dustlambent upon destiny's continually changing breeze.""oh, sweetness," you return,"time is no longer, to us, a wretched whore.now, her headlong flight,through long, soft hours of night,and bright, incandescent days,is a thing to be rejoiced.knowingly or unknowingly,she speeds us toward that fervently sought after momentwhen you will once more becomesolid warmth and tender love."and, too, that which you cannot now—in the turbulence of your cynicism,where hopes and wishes are concerned—say,will be enticed to spill honeyed from your lipsby the fine tremors that course alongthe limbs I will wrap tightly,in an unending circuit of strength,about your needful form."
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