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121 · Sep 2020
Quiet
Tafuta Atarashī Sep 2020
You wait for the silence.
Communication lost in
Translations unheeded.
Your tear saturated words
left to hang in the air
To be air dried and bleached
In the sunlight.
Look into their eyes and recognize
That iron wall of wilful ignorance.
You wait in the quiet moment
For some semblance of finality
Knowing that without your initiation
The end will never exist.
119 · Jan 2020
Descendant
Tafuta Atarashī Jan 2020
It's undeniable.
The ******* ecstasy
When the sunlight hits;
Electromagnetic waves absorbed
By your earthtone, melanated skin.
It kisses you,
wraps you in its heat
And turns your brown eyes
into pools of amber honey.
It crowns you in magnificence and glory.
Is there plausible deniability then
To ignore the evident?
The irrefutable testament
That you were born elegance.
Royal magnificence embodied
Within your entire being.
More precious than the stones
Set into the crowns of Kings.
You are the precious stones
Set deep, raw and refined
Within the earth,
and the stars set into the everness
Of the universe.
Your pain only made you more beautiful,
A descendant of forgotten riches,
Remember...
Even the sun graces you
To spite the hatred spewed
At your dignity.
The proginy of Africa,
You were born
To conquer adversity.
111 · Mar 2020
Embers II
Tafuta Atarashī Mar 2020
Embers and ashes
Is what’s become of
The spark that aroused
The constellations between us.
What do you suggest
We do to reignite the universe
That we created at the meeting
Of our lips, the contact of our eyes
The sensations that traveled, lightning,
Over our skin?
Can we regain what was lost
When we feel so distant?
We touched ever so briefly like tangents
And despite the growing separation,
Still yearn for another again.
Is there a way to savor the moment
And hold it, bottled like wine
For some future time when the future
is not enough?
I yearn for more of your fingertips
Tracing over my depths, but I can’t
Deny the way we fade into the quiet...
Embers burning to ashes and dust
Is what’s left of us,
68 · Sep 26
Sanctuary
Why should they care
To be up in arms
When I'm in yours?

Shouldn't we wrap us
In dreams, music
and pastel horizons?

And if must let them
Be ignorant of who
We be together.

— The End —