Your beauty is too heavy for faint words to carry
For you were formed with a drop of Osun’s ink
And melanin that eclipses the faded man’s words
Dark, like a cloud in the labour room
Brown, like our ancestors’ unbranded loinskins
The spiritual navel of the Earth,
Your strength birthed the first man, and
The temple of your skin brightens the moon;
The Gods Must Be Crazy
If you are not famous in their sacred thoughts
Bring your knowledge, I come with my ignorance
Bring your beauty, I come with my poetry
Bring your finger, I come not with a ring
Perhaps I could put a string of cowrie shells to it,
And tie our fingers in matrimony like the ancestors did.
But the world could sink and end in radiant pain
From the neon of your glorious words
If your curly lips and its basket of black opal
Bright like the world promised by scriptures
Reject the song of my ancestors.
• Gimba
#SundayCreativeNest #PicturePoetry
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Lovely poem. It left me trying to create a picture in my mind.
Yeah, thank you, Lovelyn. You may also contribute if you have yours.