Her word (words part I)

Photo from Ousmane Sembene film Black girl (1966)

Her word (words part I)

She,

forsaken by the masters of time,
gave birth to a prince in rag.

His Kingdom,
was to be of paper,
which he would rule fiercely.

Never afraid to conquer expression
with ancient hieroglyphics
or erect God like monuments
in perfect cursive.

He,
was born with a mask,
and his cry was beautiful..

She called him, WORD.

Her word grew,
and bathe in the rivers that drew oxygen to her lungs.
She fed him,
from the succulence of her breasts,
full with honey sweet memories and milk that whiten from blissful ignorance.

His skin glowed with the passion of her heart,
and he became,
Her pride.
Her Joy,
Overflowed,
and spilled across the empty plains of his kingdom.
Even till the very end.

Her word,
unafraid to learn,
embraced the chills of cold winters,
and ventured out into foreign lands
darkened by harsh clouds of uncertainty.

He,
for her stood brave
and with the valor of his soul,
fought dragons and green monsters
that threatened her sanity,
and the sovereignty of his stance.

She with her word,
rode throughout his uni-verse,
into enchanted lands on bare camel backs.
Her backside,
hurting from the tyranny of every adventure

She made bread with her word..

Unleavened,
for it symbolized the passing over,
treacherous lands and into the abundance of a great valley.

Its waterfalls provided her nourishment,
and washed off the dirt that kept her once beautiful hair in locks,
strangling the thoughts, of her mind.

She danced,
with steps that she never before knew,
with grace of lilies resting calmly on a clear pool.

Her prints,
on wet clay,
molded and created magical creatures that could…
freeze time,
shape giant pyramids from sand,
evolve new nations,
and raise an army from dried bones.

And all this,
from the simple command of her word.

Her word recited,
turns water to wine.

He showers manna from the heavens,
and gives to hungry bellies,
that catch his meaning.

Her word invokes tears from watery eyes,
watering the loyal gardens of his kingdom.

She took its fruits,
made sweet nectar,
and served to the content of his allies.

Her word gave meaning to life,
and life to her word.

She without a condescending nature,
gazed upon his kingdom,
and saw it as beautiful.

A mighty warrior he had grown to become.
He had already grown his tooth of wisdom,
and shattered her fear of the unknown.

His mask removed,
because his true identity no longer held secrets.
He was a King..

But for now,
he laid peacefully asleep in his cradle.
Oblivious to the power that lurked deep within him.

A true king he shall be,
someday.

Staying true to her word.

By Wale Adeniran

Live the moment, live the question?

Sent to me by EJO:

You are so young; you stand for beginnings. I would like to beg of you, dear friend, as well as I can, to have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will, gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day. Perhaps you are indeed carrying within yourself the potential to visualize, to design, and to create for yourself an utterly satisfying, joyful, and pure lifestyle. Discipline yourself to attain it, but accept that which comes to you with deep trust, and as long as it comes from your own will, from your own inner need.

– Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

Pineapple juice

For long I wondered whether it was the pine. The apple. Or the juice.

That made you so addicted to this substance.

Pineapple juice.

Pine-so ill defined I won’t even give it much mention.

Apple-simply an extension, of the above named pine.

Juice- bringing together these entities

that seem to confer approval from the tasteful palate of your tongue.

Hmmm…

Is that enough to make one walk in the rain at 11pm, so sprung

for some

Pineapple juice?

Maybe until I taste this wonder

I will simply be left here to ponder

About

Pineapple juice…

Nya Paco