I've Touched Love


I've been painted and colored as a love. A perfect love. A permanent rainbow as clear as day.
Don't paint me on water, like I'm a temporary fairy, that will go up on smoke.
I've been built in stone.
I've been made a temple, I've been fortified, I've had guards installed by my walls, keeping me safe, like a treasure.
I've tasted pure erotic humility
I've laid my soul on the floor
and dined with a king who makes thrones out of solidarity.
and I've let that one go. I've torn him out of my bleeding soul and watched him dance on clouds,  going to the gods.
where you offer uncertainty, he offered a sure resolve.
where you offer exaggeration,  he gave modesty.
Where you stumble to find words, he didn't need words...  where you strive to be impressive,  he reclined into himself. Don't settle for less,  he said.
I've been worshiped, with pure, sacred emotion. Not sensation. No. The complete journey of the head and the heart,  the spirit and the soul.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

YOU AND I

YOU AND I. Let’s start by stopping and looking around:   There is no one watching. And even if they were, Let’s just let them watch And go on ahead. Let’s ask some questions, and give each other answers. Let’s clear our doubts, it’s only fair. Let’s not be afraid of talking and asking. We are yet so young, we need no wrinkles. We are frightened, some times, I guess, But let’s just break free Like rain from clouds. Let’s chat about our past, And dream about the future. Let’s tell each other stories, we’ve just began. Let’s not make the mistakes our forefathers made, Let’s not regret, we know what we want. Let’s not be fixed to the rules of the past, Let’s craft our own rules and break them if we like. Let’s dart to the square, when we hear the drum, Let’s drum ourselves when the drummer gets weary. And let’s dance to the drums when our hands get tired. Let’s grab a taxi away from town. Let’s stroll on the hushed path and feel the co...
Read more

When the dead help with fiction.

So most of March I was thinking about my grandmother Nyamwire, my dad's mom. Considering she's been dead for a long time, some of my uncles freaked out when I told them she was visiting me in my dreams. I was told to go and pray, blah, blah, blah. To which I replied that I'm trying to decolonise my mind and to stop listening to the demonising of everything traditionally African. Before colonialists arrived, I told them, our religion depended highly on contact with the dead. One of my uncles was so shocked by all this that he just changed the subject. But a cousin of mine was very intrigued and she told me to keep listening and see if maybe grandma had a message for us. A week later I went on a writing retreat in Lira and embarked on my first feature film. There is a character in the story who's the backbone of the protagonist and a symbol of love and protection. I was struggling so much with her back story because she's a Munyankore woman who lives in Buganda. I di...
Read more

Allowed to be 50.

Allowed to be 50. Independence month is coming up, and before I write about this year's I thought I might let you know what I wrote about last year's independence anniversary. Allowed to be 50. He’s only five years old, but he knows more things than everybody I know. He doesn’t judge things or people the way adults do, and he has the most open mind a child can have. He hardly fails to find an answer for people who challenge him. Being nineteen years older than him, I always try to ask him about things that are simple, but even when I ask about adult issues; he usually shocks me with brilliant answers. But when I ask him what independence is he stares at me like a sheep.   He looks clueless. No matter how much candy I promise him, he can’t make up a story about independence (he’s always making up stories about everything - most of it lies). How on earth am I supposed to explain it to his little brain? Seeming to read my thoughts, he walks away to play. I don’t want to...
Read more