Under The African Sky

Sometimes, it is not enough to talk
And rack my brain for words that
Suit the grace of your walk.
Your sweet stride so flat.
The language of your soft touch
And the warmth of your breast.
Like a kangaroo’s pouch ....
Melts me in your arms as I rest.

The nectar of your sweet lips
Can never be written in words.
The magic of water as it drips
From your hair like glass swords.

Oh what tremors are sent through
My willing and docile spirit
This love is really true
I fail to say but I heavily feel it.

You are the painting of my heart.

You flinch and shudder when you see blood

From the wound of a stranger in pain.

You cry for strangers taken by the flood.

You weep at starving kids picking grain.



You pine at another's heartbreak

You agonize when beggers ask for aid.

You feel the pain of a man's long trek.

You scream with the woman who is afraid



You silently moan at the death of a thief.

You hope for a better job for a sweeper.

You oppose the sentence passed by the chief..

And yet you say you are..Not your brother’s keeper.

This is not a poem about science.

This is not a physics lesson.

This is a pulse of the human heart.

This is the testimony of reality invisible.

This is the sound unheard across nations

Yet heard within the vibrations of pumping blood.

This is not a Wiseman’s tale or a mad man’s ranting.

This is not a political statement or a lover’s song.

This is not a sad man’s complaint or dirge.

This is not a question nor is it an answer.

This is a wave with no beginning or end

Felt by every newborn and a dying man.

This is not a theory to be debated.

This is not a feeling to be proved.

This is not a dream or a movie script.

This is not a supposition.
This is a fact: He is and we are in Him as One.

When you love or hate you do so to yourself …

For you can not be apart from yourself.