I have compared my lover to a continent
the shape of a launching
arrow.
I have compared her calmness to the stillness of a
war-torn city slowly healing its
soldiers’ wounds.
I have placed her eyes, and a bleeding
sunset, in a juxtaposition.
I have carried the Sahara to her doorstep
and laid myself as bare
for a body
made of oases and cactus sap.
I have witnessed God's heart rise and fall
through her chest
and I've been tempted to knit
my thoughts of her into a shrine people
can come worship and leave
and still leave some space for me that feels like home.
I have woven her laughter
into that sudden plunge of rivers
meeting streams
and God knows I have tried
to make a thunderous sound
happy.
I have stripped the moon naked before
her eyes as I tried to shove
warmth out of a star that can only
be bright.
I have sewn her tiny units of metaphors
for her nightgown
as I implored a lullaby from the same moon I have destroyed.
I have come close to splitting the alphabet
into two
as I tried to fit its consonants and vowels into an
A8 sized poetry book that compares
my lover to a continent the shape of
a launching fist
and wondered why she has come
prepared for war.
Naomi Waweru (she/her) is inspired by love, vulnerability, the yearning of bodies to be free in their connection and has an eye for tradition and culture. Her writings present an adoration for the body. She portrays it as your first sanctuary. She has works on and forthcoming on Merak magazine, a voice from far away webzine, Ghost Heart Literary Journal, Kalahari Review, Poems for the Start of the World Anthology, and The African Writers Review. Reach her on Twitter @ndutapoems and Instagram @_ndutapoems.
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