Monday, March 7, 2016

Ngonzi



Shall I compare her to an orange sky
where evening drizzles dice Kazooba’s parting rays
into a million crystals of sparkling gold?

Is she the temple of mystic myth
where proud Kwezi wakes from her day’s rest,
as loyal Sirius rouses the stellar host to its watch?

Is she born of the magic that turns men from their pursuits
and blinds them from the pleasures and adventures
dangling in life’s streets and corners?

I am a bamboozled...

Have I told how her presence calms everything it touches?
How the dwellers of my mind scour their hovels
for paints that can mark the way her aura animates walls?

Questions pounce in my head like government spies
prying confessions out of a blameless man.
They ask me why my thoughts consort with her smile,
as if I would know why they won’t leave her side.

These ponderings demand resolution!

Will the wind ferry words to those gentle ears
that hear life dancing to drums
where I perceive only racket and human strife?

Will it leap across this wall of miles
and tell her I am coming to conquer her soul?
Will it write her odes describing the visions I dream
when our spirits meet in a silent moment?
Or will it read her verses pronouncing why
I would laugh with her for days that fill time
as grass covers the earth?

Ngonzi of the gait so graceful,
You in whose eyes mountains become mounds.
You to whom the trees bow when you walk past,
Whose voice is the song in the morning bird,
When Kazooba meets Kwezi at first light,
Light a fire and warm a peppery soup,
I am coming to take you.

2016

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