A Second Meeting Poem by Onyi Ogwumike

I say,
By the breathe that unwinds in my lungs,
That of all mortal men
With phases that bloom and wither as the blossoms on a tree,
You have changed the most.
What beast be ye that lay behind those deep irises?
Be he Power? Money? Lust?
Behind the kind crinkles of Time that sit beside your smooth river stones of eyes.
Sleeps a beast,
Whose might grows with the steady beating of your heart.
A heart which used to pump,
Red and fresh as the shining moon on my crimson beaches.
Now cold and frozen.
A heart beat with a song that the lungs of birds used to fill with outside my window pane.
Now faint and unfamiliar.
And the thoughts that ran and conquered the ghost of immaturity in your mind.
Thoughts that seemed birthed from the same silver stream that had brought forth my own.
Thoughts that now line up,
In accordance to Life’s orders.
Thoughts that now hand in their individuality
For shackles and chains.
Thoughts I can no longer find solace in.

The winds of change run swift over these plains,
But you,
You were the last one I expected to be blown away.