Today at church, the pastor asked us to place our hands on any part of our body where we needed healing.
I placed mine on my chest and centred it where I could feel the loudest thumps from – my heart.
You see, our love was a bonfire. Everyday with you was like a ceremony inside me. There were drum beats of joy, butterflies fluttering and nestling in weird places; my entire system conspiring to excite me. It was magical.
The fire never ceased to burn. Day after day, we would fuel our wonder until we ran out of wood. Then I started to throw pieces of my clothing into the flames. I was going naked but I didn’t care. The fire was my warmth. The drums never stopped playing.
You were supportive of my sacrifice. You would sit next to me and fan my embers. The ignited passions were short-lived. The flames were thirsty and demanded to drink. I began to pour myself into it. Cups became gallons. Gallons flowed into drums. I was relentless. I gave until I had nothing left to give. The tempo of the drums had slowed down but the beat was louder than ever. It sounded like war.
The fire was growing cold. We needed coal. It was then I realised that you were still fully clad. You even had a helmet on. I became the fire and we were dying out.
I should have seen it coming. You walked away from us, complete and whole while the charred parts of me burned to ashes. The drums were speaking but I was too blind to listen.
It’s been months now but I can still smell the smoke. The stench of burning flesh, muscles and fat sizzling like grilled meat in an open fire.
The drums never stopped playing.
My heart never stopped beating.
When the dark clouds start to dance.
And Umuoke begins to purify its sands of blood.
I will come to you by chance.
Nether the thatched huts built with mud.
An omen we await, a sign, a flare.
As the thunder calls out our names.
Neighbour after neighbour, heir by heir.
Death, it’s victory will claim.
You will avenge the fallen.
And rid our streets and hearts of the grime.
Jolts of light to break the morning.
Invading space and time.
It’s beautiful when someone brings glue and paint to fix your broken parts and make you feel pretty again.
But it’s only a feeling and these things don’t last and I’ve told you a million times but you drown my voice with your laughter.
Your temporary laughter.
Do you want to know a secret?
They’ll break you and leave you bare. Stripped of all the pretty paint and enamel coating.
How many more times do you want to break?
Do you envy dust?
you were a wandering traveller
i was the eternal sands of time
you planted your tent pegs in my grains
and spread your mat on the pieces of me
like a ready handmaiden
i was unravelled at the touch of your cold fingers
my heat was erotic
i thawed the ice in your lungs
we were sufficient;
enough for each other
i sipped cold wine
from the cup of your lips
it was Pure Heaven
but our love grew weary
my embers fanned out
your ice exited your body as tears
i watched you fold your tent
and walk away
i thought you’d stay forever
everyone promises forever
until they find someone