She

Bruised and battered by yesterday's rain you came to me seeking new revelations, closure of chapters read, comfort, assurance, peace, seeking companionship you came to me. Dressed in all that aches you looked up to me as if I was your saviour, from me you sought healing, salvation, redemption, from me you sought rebirth. Never have I been so unsure but your fear was my compass, your pain was enough motivation to lead you to paths unharmed, to the promised land I purposed myself to lead you, you were my Lot and I was your god. You were to me my motherhood, you were to me my Jesus and I was to you Mary, my reason for being, my good heart, my prized silverware.

You became my anchor, the voice of God, the voice of reason, the poet from the forgotten land whose potential was worthy of revelations, the poet clothed in garments representing God, garments of hope, garments of revival, garments of faith, you became to me my healer as I purposed myself to heal you, healed wounds I never knew lived in me, covered scars I never knew were a part of me. You became to me my destruction, destroyed my facade and gave birth to skin I never was meant to treasure, the skin of truth, the skin of reality, the skin of me, you worshiped my brown skin, sang tunes to the heart I wear, danced to the beats made by my body when our bodies danced together, to the sounds of loss we tapped, endeavours to fill the voids in our souls. Such a mess we have made of each other, you said I was your beautiful mess, and you were the mess collector, the messed up union we became. You possess the strength of Goliath and gave birth to me the faith of David, rolled up together we mother biblical interactions through holy intersections for revelations seeking embrace.

Together we became the celebrants of life, the worshipers of the African soil. We became to each other the African women who defined Africa in its entirety. You unveiled to me the treasures of our forefathers, showed me the footpath on which the tears of our foremothers still run and since that sunny day I have worn Africa as my breath plate of honour, the full armour of pride Africa became. You became my wing and I your hiding place. My empress and I your goddess. The goddess of life and light, the empress of honour and truth.

We indulged in conversations; skin to skin we spoke tales of yesterday, plotted deeds yet to come, and praised the moments we breathed in. Tongue to tongue we conveyed messages of passion, conspired on moments of peace, hand to hand to held on to what was dear to each other, we held on to each other. Eye to eye we travelled a journey; to lands undiscovered we walked back and forth to the spirits in quest for fulfilment. Mouth to mouth we fed on each other’s souls seeking familiarity, seeking solidarity we fed on the blood of harmony. We became rippers of soul’s unholy, hunters of truth untold, like the supernatural we found power at moonlight, where our affection peaked beyond the heavens. Together we became the authors of our own fates, the designers of our own happiness and the omegas of our distress. We became for each other to each other what we needed to become for each other in each other for each other's sanity.