HOURS VI

Posted on in My Creative Content, Poetry

there
is a mourning dove cooing
at
the window sill of my life,

and
what a beautiful sound
not
even mozart with his requiem can compare

soon,
we will all take flight
soon,
there will be no traces (of either) of us

i
have found that
after
all inner acts of violence quell

after
that violence loses its momentum,
there
is a discrete silence that immerses itself within

and
almost all fear, and the outside noise –
all that purports to matter but does not

a lot purports to matter but does not

sits
still and acquires a white sound like sheets of heavy rainfall

then,
you instinctively know
when
to venture out

when
and how to avoid getting drenched
and
how to hop and skip the puddles of life

and
on this finding,
I
have found another finding

 if
you listen, if you really listen
you
cannot fail to hear the Spirit move within the deep

*
* *

Dear
Silence,
When
I was 18 – the year the world cup was held in South Africa, months before my
father passed away – he was routing for Ghana – I spent my days in those months
reading a book on the Lives of the Saints
– a saint a day – and what struck me most was the concept of hermitage, and the
apparent defilement that comes along with living in the secular world that it
would help me avoid. I felt the tug to become a religious hermit and for a
while, I really did aspire to be one, but now, immersed in the comings and
goings of the secular world, I have forged my own forms of hermitage within
myself. I (have) spent most of my early twenties as a recluse so much so I feel
quite acutely the intensity of a companionship when it wedges into my life – the
danger of being a recluse, I have found, is that sometimes it gets too
comfortable – nothing comes in or goes out – there is a plateau of stability –
and even companionship that is not detrimental to that all other forms of
stability is threatened in that plateau.

When
I was young(er), I feared you, and I often played loud music and engaged in
chatter and vain conversation just to avoid you. As you know, I live in the technology
age, and it is easy to avoid you, what with all the available streams of
entertainment. However, coming to age, I realized that you are my friend. You have been with me all along, and never once,
have you left despite all the distractions I lay between us.

You
were there when I was conceived in the mind of God, in my mother’s womb. You
were there when I breathed my first, and you know all that I was before my
consciousness seeped in, and you still know all that my consciousness has not
been able to grasp. You were there when I first lied to my father – I was with
my sister, Ann, and she was in a blue suit, and I was in a red suit – similar
designs, my mother’s intention – and we were barely 10 – sugar crystals spread
across our chins; the aid of a mirror far from sight – he asked us  "mmekula sukari?“ and giggling, we
replied "hapana” and he pinched us both – a thin pinch, the kind that
seers through to the brain – and with the other hand he warmly wiped the sugar
crystals from our cheeks and chins – I don’t think I will forget that day – not
for the pinch but for the realization that the truth remains the truth whether
we try to conceal it – and that there is such a thing as a lie, and it is a
flimsy shroud to cover such a thing as truth.

You
were with me when the stretch of woman hood lay before me – and these are things
that are between me and you – just between me and you, and that’s as much as I will
say. Womanhood is a beauty whose brunt is borne in much silence.

You
were with me when I first felt my heart flutter at the sight of someone – there
are forms of beauty that cannot be bought – like the laughter of someone you
like, like the sparkle of their eyes, like how it feels when they talk to you,
when they smile at you, when there seems to be a tandem, there seems to be a resonance
that you did not create, that appears and manifests all by itself, and you
can’t control it, or contain it.

And
you have silently taught me that to grasp the sweetness of this beauty, one has
to not cage it – for caged, it withers off – this beauty is like a bird, it like
lives a bird, it flies wherever it wills – always free as a bird.

 Lovers,
friends, families, think that you are static, that your presence is a wall of
glass – one that can be seen through but impossible to penetrate – but I have
come to know that you are dynamic – fluid, you flow like crystal clear water –
and you say so much – you communicate all that words cannot convey – only if
one is really listening can they hear.

You
have also led me to recognize the hand of Providence in everything and anything
– to realize that God is not separate from anything – not separate from
anything that moves and lives – not separate from anything that seems dead,
like a stone, like water, like air but is alive in its own innate way – that He
is everywhere, everywhere.

I
am glad that you have been with me through it all;
You
have been with me, as you have been with all the others.
You
have been with me, and will continue to be with me even when I am but dust
And
you will continue to be with me, when the heavens open, and I will be alive
again.

I
am writing to say that You are my friend, that I love you, that I am happy to acknowledge
you,
I
am happy that you exist – for within your quiet, I have been able to find
myself.

With
warm affection,
D.M.

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