Morning
Two loves on both sides comfort my ill color
In happiness the youth teaches me prayers to send to the Most High
The eyes of my second love are wise, humble, and rare
Does love come from pride
Sun and prayers are being sent up swiftly
The hands of my first love are young, brown, and sweet
The dawn comes, is this where love ends or begins
In the ground where the seed of my second love lives, the soil is warm
My older love, has hair like wool that drinks almond oil
Never ashamed of it’s greed and bears the strength of King David’s wisdom
Admittedly his cheeks are like warmed vanilla
O’ that can make any indulge in the spice
His spirit sickles evil and laughs at the sight of a storm
He is the husbandman that prepares the garden to win my spirit
I suspect that I can examine his character, by his dance for me
It is time to choose, and I can’t live in the doubt of a decision
Both will give me love and despair
Which will give me less ill
It is such a thing that woman grows like the plants in the sun
How she is unknown of the growth, but tempted to grow with one like her, leaving her seed, and always reaching for the belly of her creator
Things to do: Put the herbs outside on the terrace for the shine
They both woo me, enticing my unkempt pride
But being friends to one, and stranger to the other
I suppose one is on the left and the other on the right
Yet time will not offer the exchange of her love for my ignorance
I worship her friend wisdom, but her door remains closed until she tarries no longer
My words search for the ears of God
Let me choose, searching earnestly, the clock is ticking away
Surrounded by time, and listening to her deafening silence
I will learn soon enough, one will remain a friend
If I error, then upon my soil me proved
The sky is lined with shades of grey
Dawn is approaching with effortless sway
Chasing the moon away
Honeybird Kiss No. 9
(Salt: A poeme by Weléla Kindred)
Photo: The Alvin Ailey Dance Theater
