Untitled . . .
What do you see
staring back at me,
as my hand feels
the reflection of your face
stopping upon a mountain
amongst the coarse hairs
three days past a shave,
You ask . . .
will it make me more comely
to expunge it,
or is it merely an obstruction
to my vanity,
then you say I am loved
by one who could care less
just as I do her
simply because she is.
You smile at me
hence, revealing the wound
a scar, remembered
hidden by years
yet still remains
shown on rare occasions
when the corners of my mouth
lift upward,
Again, you ask . . .
is it worth removing a blemish
from a frown,
Indeed, I tell you
as futile as hanging clothes
upon a soul.
Nakia 4/97
The Lazarrus Pool (a work in progress)
Oh how I wanted to know You
understand the whys
regret the why nots
find oneness with Your spirit
and tell the world
how wonderful you are.
I remember, the day we met,
the apprehensiveness
unsurity of commitment
but I relented
layed my life before You
accepted the power of Your being.
(to be continued, then again, perhaps not)
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