White
Plastic bag
Rustling
Stuck to that half dead
Tree
Snapping at the wind
A flag
A plea
To Surrender
To her
To her
I follow
The splashes of water
Leaking from that bucket
In need of mending
On her knees she scrubs thrice a day
yet I still follow
the track of spilled water
To her
To her
Grind my teeth
Feel
Sand pebbles
From the last dance
With that storm
Traces
Scents
Of her
All over my form
So strong
The musk
To her
To her
A hoot for Life
I yell
I scream
Sliding across the mud
Giggling
Carefree
Holding hands
We hop
The rhythm
Of drops
To her
To her
I am content
Repeat
I am content
Rekindle
The warmth
In you
In me
Lifting up my face to the heavens, to what Gods will hear me out, to what songs I’ll sing and shout, to what pulse my feet will stomp, to what rhythms my hands will clap, on this beatened ground, old, wizened, I give myself, however flawed, however broken, however jaded, wherever I may have flown, fled, disappeared to, whenever I may finally wake up, get up… to rise, to preserve, to fight, to come back…
To her
To her
Nubian(Q) 